Lean on Me
by Stefi Delly
Summary: After the Mash-Off, Brittany and Quinn offer Santana comfort and support, assuring her that things will turn out alright. Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Meanwhile, Quinn struggles to balance missing Beth and being a friend to Brittany and Santana.
1. Chapter 1

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Hey y'all, I'd like to say, that before you read this, know that I'm going to be changing a few things because I, (probably like a bunch of other people) wasn't satisfied with the I Kissed A Girl episode.

This picks up just after where Mash-Off left off. I'll be juggling the POVs of Brittany and Santana, but I'll also be using Quinn. Why? Because unlike the Glee writers, I think that Quinn and Brittany should have been there for Santana after what happened. They're her closest friends. The Unholy Trinity. In my opinion, they should be the ones that supported Santana, and the episode should have revolved around them and not Finn "the Hero" Hudson.

People who're all for Finn, listen to me when I say this: Let's agree to disagree, and just close this tab. Okay? I have the same message for Pelby fans, thanks.

Now I won't be writing out an entire episode, and y'all just mix this into what's cannon to you as you see fit.

Also, this isn't going to be that long-running. (So those who know me from way-back and are aware of my track record with long-running stories, you can breathe). This will probably be two or three chapters long. Four tops. I already have the story arc planned out. It's going to focus, basically on Santana's problem/s, Brittany's love (heeee) and Quinn's (and the others') friendship. Yay :D

ONE LAST NOTE THEN YOU CAN FINALLY READ: I'm not completely satisfied with this title. If someone can suggest something better, let me know so I can consider it.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

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><p>The slap was loud, the sound of it reverberating throughout the auditorium. In the stunned silence that followed, it still seemed to be ringing in Quinn's ears. For a moment, probably the first time in a long time, all thoughts of Beth and Shelby were driven from her mind as she gaped at Santana, who was standing stock still before Finn and Rachel.<p>

Tearing her gaze away from Santana, Quinn looked at Finn. The quarterback literally just stared, his hand on his cheek. Looking elsewhere, Quinn realized that everyone else, too, was really _just staring_. It was like no one knew what to do next. No one knew what _Santana_ would do next.

Since their loss in Nationals, everyone knew just how dangerous and fiery Santana could be when enraged. And _strong_. Quinn herself had experienced first hand what kind of struggle could be faced against the strength Santana had despite her relatively small frame. Would they be experiencing that again soon? Was this just the beginning? Was Santana just getting geared up to go all Lima Heights on Finn Hudson?

Quinn tensed in her seat, preparing herself to leap to her feet and rush between the two if it came to that. Rachel Berry was closest, and Quinn doubted the small girl would be much use against the rage mode Santana had once dubbed Snix. Artie was also pretty nearby, but he would be even less helpful than Berry. Kurt… well he probably wasn't much stronger than Berry, too.

As frustrated as she could be with Finn sometimes, and as hard as it was to get along with Santana sometimes, Quinn didn't want either of them hurt.

Santana's face was a twisted mixture of rage and pain and… it almost looked like _fear_. Her hands had now curled into tight fists, and that was not a good sign.

Finally, someone broke the silence. "Santana…" It was a soft whisper, but in the silence filling the auditorium, it might as well have been a shout. Brittany was stepping off of the stage and approaching her.

What happened next was so fast, Quinn had worried that Santana would take her rage out on Brittany.

With a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl, Santana had lunged towards Brittany, seizing her by the shoulders. But instead of pushing, or attacking, or doing any of the things Quinn was fearing, Santana simply yelled, "_Everything's ruined!"_

"No, it's not." Brittany, who looked like the sudden movement had shocked her too, recovered quickly and spoke in a firm voice. Moving at a carefully slow pace, Brittany raised her hands from her sides and held Santana's arms. "Everything's not ruined. It's going to be okay."

"Everybody already knew, _it's not a big deal_!" Finn, who seemed to have recovered from the shock of the slap was now standing up from his seat, eyes locked on Santana. "I mean look at Kurt and Blaine, them being gay's not a big deal in Glee club coz we accept that kind of stuff."

"You don't get it, you truckload of lard!" Santana snapped, pulling away from Brittany. "None of you mouth-breathing brain-deprived clones of Dumb and Dumber _get it."_

Before anyone else could react, Santana fled.

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><p>Brittany had been right there. She'd seen it all up close. This wasn't Santana being angry. This was very <em>very<em> different. The way she moved, the way she spoke was off. It wasn't like all those other times that Santana had been irritable, or dealing with that time of the month, or expressing her annoyance towards Finn, Rachel and anyone else in Glee, (who she tended to have a love-hate relationship with).

"What's gotten into her?" Sugar wondered out loud, giving voice to the question everyone else in the auditorium might have had in their heads.

They may not know, but Brittany did. After getting over the shock of Santana's latest outburst, she ran after her girlfriend. Because _her girlfriend_ needed her.

Pushing past students walking along the hallway, Brittany kept her neck and back stretched out, as far above the crowd as she could get, taking advantage of her height to look out for Santana.

Brittany caught a brief glimpse of the black dress before a large jock blocked her view. Picking up speed, she barely noticed that she'd thrown off her heeled shoes as she dodged people and backpacks and opened locker doors. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Brittany registered that voices were calling her name. Deeming the calls as subordinate to the current situation, she ignored them.

Finding the path familiar, Brittany guessed where Santana was headed. It wasn't that odd of a place to choose to go to. At this time, it would be empty. And as a general rule, people seemed to avoid it lest they be contaminated by what they seemed to think was the un-cool aura of the area.

After running at top speed, Brittany slowed her pace, nearing her destination: the choir room.

It only took a quick scan of the room to spot Santana curled up in the farthest corner, behind the drum set. Her back was pressed against the wall while her arms wrapped around her legs and her head rested on her knees.

Scared of spooking her into running away again, Brittany called out to her in what she hoped was a soft, soothing whisper. "San… It… It's Britt… I'm here."

Hearing no reply, Brittany moved closer, hoping that it wouldn't do more harm. Seeing Santana like this was tearing her apart. All she wanted to do right now was hold her crying girl and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That she'd _make_ it all okay.

"Santana…" Brittany tried to find the right words to say as she knelt down next to Santana, who was visibly trembling. What she had told Brittany earlier, just before their performance was resounding in her head. The commercial that had been described to her, it was only being played in her imagination right now, but by the end of the week, it would be playing in everyone's TV's.

Brittany could keep Lord Tubbington's TV off, but she couldn't do the same to Santana's family or McKinley students… or anyone else.

"Britt…" Santana's voice was a barely audible sob. It hurt Brittany to hear it.

This time, Brittany didn't hesitate. Without another word, she wrapped her arms around Santana, pulling her close. The comfort and hope Brittany wanted to give but couldn't find the words to express, she hoped she could convey through the embrace.

Instead of pulling away, Santana moved closer, taking her arms from her legs and wrapping them around Brittany's waist. "It… it's… it's all going to change, Britt." Santana gasped out these words before burying her face into Brittany's shoulder.

"Maybe it'll change for the better, San." Brittany tried to be optimistic. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

"I d-don't know…" Santana's doubt was obvious.

"I'm not sure either…" Brittany tried again, running her fingers through Santana's dark hair as she did so. "But what I _am _sure of though is that your friends… your _real friends_ will love you just the same. And that it's not a big deal for them."

The deep breath Santana took was one that Brittany didn't miss. Then with teary eyes, Santana met Brittany's. It took a great deal of self-control not to break down then and there. Now was when Santana needed her to be strong.

"Britt… You… you _do_ love me back… right?"

"Of course I do!" Brittany moved her face closer to Santana's, so that their foreheads touched. "I love you, Santana. I've told you that before, and I'll tell you a million times more and more than that, I just don't know what numbers are after that."

As if of its own accord, a smile tugged at Santana's lips. "I think billion comes after."

"Is infinity more than billion?" Encouraged, Brittany put her palms along Santana's jawline and stroked those beautifully defined cheekbones.

This time, she got a short laugh out of Santana. "Yeah, I think so."

"Then I'll tell you infinity times. As many times as you need to hear it. I love you, more than I've ever loved anyone else in this world. Don't you ever forget it, okay?"

"Okay." Santana replied, keeping brown eyes locked on blue ones.

Briefly, warmth filled Brittany. They would get through this. The nightmare would not last any longer. Santana would go home and tell her parents the truth and they would accept her and everything would be okay. McKinley wouldn't care that Santana wasn't into guys and was actually in love with a girl. The head cheerleader would still be strutting down hallways, turning heads and demanding respect. Finally, they would be able to hold hands anywhere and flirt and kiss just like the other couples always did.

Everything would be okay.

The illusion seemed to fade with Santana's smile. The fear in those deep brown eyes was back.

Santana moved her face away from Brittany's, but didn't break away from the embrace. "Am I a coward?"

"Why would you think that?" Brittany cocked her head to one side. "You're one of the bravest people I know."

Words seemed to be lost to Santana as her eyes dropped to the floor and she shook her head. Soon, she was back to sobbing with her face on Brittany's shoulder.

It was then that someone interrupted them. "What's going on?"

Brittany looked up, recognizing Quinn. Opening her mouth to speak, she was about to respond to Quinn when Santana's grip on her waist tightened, changing whatever Brittany was going to say into a gasp.

"Just leave me alone." Santana mumbled.

Quinn looked from Brittany to Santana, the concern and confusion clear on her face. For a few moments, she hesitated, looking like she was torn between doing what Santana told her to do and offering the comfort that their mutual friend needed. Green eyes met blue, reflecting the same distress.

"Santana…" Quinn tried.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like more crunches to work out that fat you gained after you went Juno?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, and Brittany was glad that she wasn't the only one who knew Santana didn't always mean the things she said. Especially when she was upset.

"Look…" Quinn took a seat on the floor next to them. "I know I've been…" There was a short pause that Quinn took to choose her words. "…_distant_ lately." That was putting it mildly. The former captain of the Cheerios had barely spoken to them, even after she'd gotten over her Skanks phase and rejoined Glee. It was Puck she'd only really ever talk to, and it was always like Quinn was tense and irritable. That had only gotten worse when Brittany and Santana left New Directions.

"Huh." Santana refused to face Quinn, instead keeping her face on Brittany's shoulder.

"But… I'm… I'm here for you now." Quinn tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on Santana's shoulder.

"A lot of good it'll do." Santana grumbled, lifting her head and shaking Quinn's hand off before facing her. "Aren't you afraid of being a third wheel? I'm pretty sure you already know, since Finn's convinced that _everyone_ already knew."

"Is this about you and Brittany?" Quinn arched one eyebrow upwards.

"Congratulations! You're not as much of an idiot as your ex-orca."

Brittany felt bad for Quinn, who was only trying to help. What Santana was doing just wasn't very nice. Right now probably wasn't the best time to talk to her about her words though.

Quinn let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm not going to lie. I've always gotten the idea that there might be more to you two than just friendship…" She shrugged, turning to Brittany, "And I guess… after you and Artie broke up, it became more obvious and we sort of just… guessed?"

Santana didn't say anything, surprising Brittany by instead just moving closer and leaning against her shoulder. "This sucks."

"What does Finn have to do with it though?"

"He proclaimed it in the hallway and some nosy little bitch told her uncle candidate. And now they're going to air a campaign commercial that sends me flying out of the closet, complete with a fucking rainbow explosion." Instead of a stream of burning, angry yells, the words came out soft, defeated.

"I… I didn't know…" was all Quinn could say.

"Santana… Honey, look at me." Brittany hated seeing Santana so crushed. There had to be a way out of this mess. There had to be. And Brittany would find it. Whatever it took, she would get Santana through this.

With a sigh, Santana moved so she and Brittany were face to face. Seeing the tears running down those cheeks felt like knives stabbing and twisting into her chest. Brittany swallowed before she spoke. "You'll get through this. It's going to get better. Trust me…"

"P-Parents…" Santana looked like she was going to try and say more, but she stopped. Leaving it at that, she tilted her head downwards, her hair falling like a black curtain that blocked their view of her face.

"Maybe they'll understand…" Quinn moved closer to them and began stroking Santana's back. This time, Santana didn't recoil.

"I'm… I'm…" Santana laughed bitterly. "God, I hate having to admit it out loud." Brittany and Quinn exchanged glances, and decided to encourage Santana to continue by remaining silent.

It was a brief wait before Santana lifted her head and said, "I'm scared. I'm scared of how everything's going to change. I'm scared of how people will look at me different, of what they'll say behind my back. I'm… I'm _fucking terrified_ of having to tell my parents." Groaning, Santana added, "And I feel like a coward for it. Mount Whale called me a coward and _I hate him for being right._" That last part was shouted out.

"Santana Lopez, listen to me." Making her voice firm, Brittany placed her hands on the other girl's face. "You _are not_ a coward. You're scared, but you're not a coward. You have fears, but you're going to face those fears. You're stronger than you think. I believe in you Santana. I still do, and I always will."

It was going to be okay.

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><p><strong>S-A.A.R.<strong>:I'm working on the next chapter, and hopefully it'll be up tomorrow. If I get a review or two at least. Oh, and even if I know what's going to happen next, I'd like to know what y'all think: IS it going to be okay? Are you feeling as optimistic as Brittany?

Oh, and I know Santana's POV wasn't shown here. Don't worry, it'll be in the next chapter. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: I've been thinking… Mr. Schue was there when Quinn and Santana had a fight break out in the middle of the hallway during Season 2. And if my memory's right... a few times, he's also gotten in between the guys trying to fight. Why didn't he report _those_ incidents? Why would he report Santana's incident? Especially when he knew the reason behind Santana's distress?

Seriously, the writers _butchered_ Will's character just so that they could twist events into putting Santana and TT in ND's choir room and they could have their Santana-serenading sessions and Finn had every opportunity to be the bestest hero ever.

Just saying.

On another note, I hope y'all keep reading and reviewing. :) Such things make every writer happy :D

Also, Kurt's POV being used here… it sort of just happened. xD I was inspired to write out how I think he might've reacted after finding out what Finn did. I mean if Kurt never even considered outing Karofsky, he must feel _very strongly_ against it.

Last: This story kind of took on a life of its own. While I said the focus would be the Unholy Trinity, some other characters had somehow managed to find their ways into this story. It just... happened. xD

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

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><p>"Finn, what is wrong with you? You <em>do not<em> do that!" After Santana's episode, the two glee clubs had followed their respective directors out of the auditorium. Once he'd learned of the entire situation, Kurt was overwhelmed by disgust with his stepbrother and the stream of lectures and questions just poured out of him more endlessly than rain during the worst storm. "You never ever out someone! That's the lowest blow you could ever give someone! _What were you thinking?_!"

Finn, steadily growing irritated, kept walking along with the rest of New Directions. "You should've heard the stuff she was saying to me. She was totally out of line!"

"_So_?" Kurt heard his own voice coming out shrill. "Santana's mouth sometimes is better left shut and locked in one room, but she didn't deserve that. No one does! Hasn't being my friend, being my _brother _taught you _anything?_"

"Yeah!" Finn's own voice came out slightly higher than usual as he yelled back his response. The tall quarterback paused to swallow and take a deep breath before he spoke again, though he was still obviously aggravated. "It's not a big deal, being gay and stuff like that. You're better out of the closet than in it. So why can't _she_ get that?"

Kurt felt his hands trembling as his anger kept him from immediately or intelligently yelling out his next response. Blaine put both hands on Kurt's shoulders in an effort to calm him, but it wasn't working as well as it usually would. "I don't believe in outing another person! If you paid even one _smidgen_ of attention to the things I say _you_ _would_ _know_ _that_!"

"Kurt… take a breath and calm down for a bit…" Blaine tried to soothe Kurt.

"_Why can't you just drop it?"_ Finn's yell was much louder this time, enough for the rest of Glee to stop in their tracks.

"Guys… now's not the time for us to be turning on each other." Mr. Schue stepped between them. His voice was outwardly calm, but the warning behind it was clear.

"Not every parent is as open-minded as my dad and not every gay kid is as ready to come out as Blaine and I. If something bad happens to Santana, _don't be surprised if people blame you_." With this last outburst, Kurt turned his back on them and stomped off, the sound of Blaine's footsteps echoing behind him. If Mr. Schue had anything important to announce, Rachel or whoever could just tell them.

Right now, Kurt was too furious to be in the same room as Finn Hudson.

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><p>Santana was known for her sharp, heavily-barbed tongue and her tendency to resort to violence. Head cheerleader, hot body, complete confidence- she was at the top of the High School food chain. Things were under her and in her control. Always.<p>

Santana had relished that feeling.

Now, things were going to change. It was all beyond her control and she hated it. The frustration, anger and terror that was mixed in together insider her felt like she had some sort of hurricane of emotions going on in her head. It was draining her of all the spunk and confidence she usually had. It wasn't a nice feeling.

Again and again that campaign ad played in her head like a defective DVD.

"_If you're so into family values, why did you promote a lesbian student to be your head cheerleader_?"

How was she supposed to tell her parents about this? Every time she tried to think of how to start on the topic, Santana choked on her words. The fear was making it difficult to speak, to think, to _breathe_.

_Lesbian student to be your head cheerleader_.

It would be better for them to hear it from her than from the damn campaign ad. But… how? How to start? What to say? Tell them both at the same time? Or mom first then dad next? Or dad first, mom after?

_Lesbian_ _student_.

The whole gay thing, it wasn't talked about that much in their family. Sort of the thing that conversation always just goes around and doesn't touch on. This would probably be the first time that they'd _ever_ really discuss it. Would they actually turn out to be open-minded? Would they hug her and tell her they'd known all along? Like Kurt's dad? Like Brittany's parents?

_Lesbian._

Santana hoped they'd be accepting. She also wished she had the guts that Brittany had… and Kurt… and even that ankle-bearing dwarf, Blaine. Right now though, she was so full of fear, it wouldn't be surprising if people on the other edge of Lima could smell it coming off of her in waves.

"_Otherwise, God is kind of a jerk, isn't he? I mean, he makes me gay and then he has his followers going around telling me it's something that I chose. As if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life."_

Randomly, what Kurt said last year about God made its way into Santana's mind.

Was _God_ on her side in all of this? Or was it like how Kurt saw it? That He either didn't exist or didn't care? Or was it like how religion-obsessed creeps always put it? That gay people were a disgraceful, sinful abomination… was it like that?

Kurt had went through living in Hell last year, with the way people treated him. Was a similar fate in store for Santana?

_Lesbian._

Their family… her parents… they were _that_ kind of people. Church every Sunday, prayer before and after meals… the whole deal. So… would their reaction be driven by love of their religion or love of their daughter?

"Santana…"

Brittany's voice startled her out of her whirlpool of thoughts. She'd almost forgotten that _her_ _girlfriend _(wow, under different circumstances, the concept of Brittany being her girlfriend would have thrilled Santana. Now though… she was just feeling way too many other emotions to have room for that) was just next to her in the passenger seat. Guilt then decided to add itself to the already overwhelming mixture. Britt didn't deserve her silence.

Santana swallowed, bracing herself before speaking in as steady a voice as she could manage. "Yeah, Britt?"

"Do… you wanna talk?" Brittany asked. Santana briefly took her eyes off the road to look at the girl in the passenger seat. Concern and worry was written all over her face. Feeling even guiltier, but also feeling slightly comforted, Santana returned her gaze to the road. "You've been quiet the whole ride… A few blocks ago, we passed by someone wearing an outfit worse than Rachel's _grandma-plus-three-year-old _style and you didn't even comment on it."

"Did we?" Santana deflected. "Maybe we should turn around so I can get a second look."

"San…" She felt Brittany's hand touch her arm and give it a light squeeze. "I'm right here… we can talk if you want to."

"I'm just…" Santana wasn't sure where to start. Too many fears and frustrations and feelings were running all over her confused mind, wilder than kindergarteners during recess. "I… I dunno…" The steadiness was leaving her voice, and the dull pain in her chest suddenly started growing sharp again. Not quite as bad as after she saw the ad, or during and after the mash-off.

Not yet.

"I'm dreading how they're going to react." The words left Santana in a rush. She figured it was better to shove them out quick as possible now than let them come out in embarrassingly broken sobs later.

"I'm sure they love you, Santana…" Brittany tried to reassure her. "And… I think… with that love, they'll accept you."

"I hope so…" Now, she whispered her response. Santana took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Hadn't she bawled enough earlier today? A few days ago, she'd come close to shedding tears after frankenteen opened his stupid mouth. But pride had saved her from wasting them on that whale.

Then that _ad_ happened. And she lost it.

Now, she didn't want a replay. It was bad enough that Quinn saw her crying.

Still… deep down, Santana appreciated her friend's support. And Brittany… always there, always supportive, always believing in her… Thank God or Santa or the Grinch or Fate or _whoever_ or _whatever_ for Brittany S. Pierce.

"I've got so much on my mind right now, Britt." Santana sighed before casting another quick glance at Brittany. "But… y'know… after all of this… I'll thank you for everything somehow."

"Well you can start by turning the car around, I think we passed my house ten minutes ago."

"What?" Santana looked around, realizing that they were already well past Britt's neighborhood. Inwardly cursing, she did as Brittany asked. "Sorry…"

"It's fine, San." Brittany gave her shoulder a pat before asking, "Did they say when the campaign ad will show?"

Santana paused, thinking about it. Burt Hummel just said that the tape was a copy of the campaign ad that whatsisname sent him in advance. "No… but I'm pretty sure it's going to be soon."

"Maybe you don't have to do it today…" That was an incredibly tempting idea. There was always tomorrow, or the day after that. Maybe they won't even see the ad. Maybe it was revised and wouldn't include her anymore.

Yeah, right. That was as likely as Quinn and Mercedes switching bodies.

"I gotta get this done today, Britt. Otherwise I'll lose my nerve and they'll find out from the ad or someone else."

"I could come with you…" Brittany offered. "You don't have to drop me off now. We can go together. Like how Timon and Pumbaa always do stuff together like when they were dealing with the hyenas in Lion King."

Santana couldn't help but smile, but she still slowed down as they neared Britt's house. "Thanks, Britt-Britt. But… I… I can handle it." Actually, she just didn't want Brittany to be there if something… went wrong. It was a safety measure.

"You sure?" Brittany asked.

They were in the Pierce driveway now. Still, it wasn't too late to start the car up again and bring Brittany with her. Santana bit her lip, thinking about it. Having Britt there would be great… And she really wished she didn't have to do it alone.

But… Santana had a feeling… a _strong_ feeling that it would be better if Brittany didn't come along. No matter how badly she wanted Britt with her.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Santana forced herself to meet Brittany's eyes and reassure her with a smile. "I'm sure."

At first, it looked like Brittany was going to insist on staying in the car, looking at Santana as doubtfully as she was. But then, thankfully, she unbuckled her seatbelt, "Alright then." Inwardly, Santana let out a sigh of relief.

"I know you can do it." Brittany leaned over towards Santana's side of the car, "Lord Tubbington and I believe in you."

A short laugh bubbled out of Santana, "Thanks, Britt."

"It's going to turn out okay, okay?" God, if only she could have Brittany's optimism.

"Okay." Santana tried not to look away from Brittany, whose face was now very close to hers. A very desperate, frightened part of her was incredibly tempted to just beg Brittany to come with her and hold her hand through the nerve-wracking experience that would take place once she got home.

What happened next was both too surprising for her to really react to and too fast for her to be aware of until it was over. Brittany gave her lips a quick kiss.

It called forth all kinds of bubbly, positive feelings that briefly, temporarily chased away the anxieties plaguing her mind and caused a dopey smile to form on her face. Santana found herself wishing it hadn't happened so fast.

"I love you Santana, and like how I know Lord Tubbington hides his cigarettes under my sister's bed, I know you'll get through this and it's all going to turn out okay."

_It's going to be okay._

* * *

><p>"Hey…"<p>

Artie looked up, surprised to be interrupted from his thoughts. More surprising was who it was. Finn, Puck, those guys, he was used to talking to since they'd been hanging out a lot more… but… Tina?

"What're you still doing in school?"

"Waiting for my mom to pick me up." Artie answered quietly, avoiding eye contact. It was humiliating enough that he couldn't drive or commute like everyone else usually did. He tried to divert the focus of the budding conversation back to her. "You?"

"Mike and I were in the library, getting some homework done in advance." Tina answered.

"Oh."

A brief silence passed. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one though.

"How are you?" Tina was the first to break it.

Artie avoided her gaze, pushing his glasses further up his nose and pretending to take interest in the left armrest of his wheelchair. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm looking forward to the latest episode of Mythbusters when I get home. After that, they're going to show a feature about robots."

"Does it bother you..? The whole Brittany-Santana thing?"

"Brittana." Artie muttered. The bitterness wasn't as strong as it had been when he first found out last school year. And he rarely ever thought about it anymore. Directing was his calling, and it's what he cared about most now. Still… when nothing interesting was showing on Discovery Channel or NatGeo or any of the usual channels, sometimes his thoughts drifted back to Brittany.

"Brittana…" Tina repeated quietly. "Right…"

"Well I already knew about it before… y'know… all this happened." Artie told her. "And for a while… most of summer, actually…" With a chuckle, he remembered some of the things he'd fantasized happening to Santana. Hit by a car, sat on by Karofsky, eaten by Sam's huge mouth, shot out of a cannon… to name a few. "I wanted something really really bad to happen to Santana so I could have Brittany back…"

He left out the part where his need to get over Tina was the whole reason the Brittany thing started in the first place. Artie toyed with his gloves before looking up at Tina, "But now… I… I just feel kind of bad for her…" He smiled. "Kind of funny, huh?"

Tina smiled slightly, looking like she wasn't sure how she was supposed to react.

"She's a bitch who manipulates people and her words are about as bad as Ms. Sylvester's…" Artie stated what he and Tina knew was the truth before he added, "But we've all seen the kind of crap Kurt's had to live with..." Artie shook his head, trying to make sense of his own opinion, because it was bizarre even to him.

"Maybe I'm mostly over Brittany and I don't care about Santana anymore… maybe I've changed since I've gotten into directing… I don't know…" Artie continued, "But I'm actually _hoping_ that things turn out right for her."

* * *

><p>The TV was droning on in the background, showing some old re-runs of some cheesy long-running television series. Dad was at the table, going through some paperwork while Mom flitted about, taking inventory as she wrote the grocery list. A normal, everyday situation. It's been this way every evening for as long as she could remember. Sometimes, the difference would be dad's absence, because some emergency or another called him to the hospital. But usually… this was how things looked after dinner.<p>

Santana had spent the few hours before dinner pacing her room, practicing the words in her head, asking the dark wallpaper for their opinions. When dinner came, she barely had much appetite. After, she helped clear the table.

Soon, her parents would be leaving for their bedroom and she'd lose her chance.

The tightness in her chest was keeping Santana from breathing normally.

_Lesbian_ _student_.

Could they see that her hands were trembling? If she hadn't been sitting on a chair, her shaky legs would not have been able to hold her upright. Santana swallowed, recalling the speech she'd prepared in her head. If she could just gather the courage she needed to deliver it, this would be all over.

It was going to be okay.

_I love girls the way that I'm supposed to feel about boys. It's just something that's always been inside of me and I really want to share it with you both because I love you both so much…_

Why couldn't she just say it? The words were on their way out of her but just stopped, blocked by a thorny barrier of fear and anxiety. It was getting painful. It felt like her whole body was shaking. Could they see it? Could they even sense any of this? Santana swallowed, but even that seemed to get tangled up in the barricade.

"Santana, are you alright?" Mom had an empty jar in her hand, she set it on the table. Could she see Santana shivering? "Normally, you rush off to your laptop at this time."

"I-I-" Why was this so hard?

_Coward_.

Finn Willy's voice managed to find its way into her head.

_Lesbian_.

That fucking campaign ad.

"You look pale." Dad looked up from the papers he was going through.

They were both looking at her now. It was now or never. "Mom… dad… I… I have something to tell you guys." Her voice came out several pitches higher, and her insides felt like they were wriggling and squirming. She opened her mouth to continue, but the barrier was still there, and it stubbornly refused to let the words come out.

_I love girls the way I'm supposed to feel about boys._

Was that so hard to say?

_Coward_.

"Spit it out already!" Dad grumbled impatiently.

"I-I-"

Just then, the campaign ad came on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Well I hope y'all enjoyed the sadistic cliffhanger I left in the previous chapter. Mwahahahah.

On another note... for some reason, I keep picturing Ricardo Chavira (Carlos Solis from Desperate Housewives) as Santana's dad. -shrug-

Oh, and about Rory, if I messed up his dialogue and offended any Irish people, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to D: I based his dialogue off of some Irish slang and stuff that I'd compiled a while back when I was researching for a character I was writing. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

* * *

><p>Quinn paced from one side of her room to the other agitatedly. Every so often, she'd cast glances at her phone, which lay on her bed, motionless. On one hand, she was worried about Santana. She or Brittany should have texted or called by now, with news of what went on. On the other, she was trying to calm herself and think about something else. Worrying made time feel slower, and time feeling slower just made the worrying more intense.<p>

Unfortunately, Quinn had little else to focus on right now. To her, the only other thing she had to think about was the Beth situation. And at this point, she just _really_ didn't want to dwell on _that_ complicated subject.

It's turned into such a mess. Puck just _had_ to rat her out. Now her chances of getting Beth back were probably zero.

And yet, the words Ms. Shelby Corcoran had tossed at her before closing the door kept running through Quinn's mind. It fed the doubt she'd kept locked away. It made her question her motivations and her worth. Was it really right for her to be trying to get Beth back... or was Ms. Corcoran truly more worthy of Beth?

* * *

><p>Santana felt as if she was frozen in place, every limb unable to move, while on the inside, every organ was doing some sort of insane dance. It was like having part of her really full of energy and ready to run as fast as possible, while the other part was tense and unable to move. Helpless, terrified and distressed, Santana looked away from the TV to stare at her parents.<p>

Mom was just standing where she was, moving no muscle, eyes still locked on the screen, even if it was no longer showing the campaign ad that had changed everything. Dad had his eyes down on the table, his thick brows furrowed. She could see that his fist was clenched tightly.

"Was that really referring to you?" Dad's voice was soft, but icy. Santana wasn't sure if she would have preferred this or yelling. She also wasn't sure if she would have preferred him looking at her or still glaring at the table like he was now.

"Yeah…" Santana just barely managed to whisper out that one short word.

"So that really was _you_?" Mom had successfully torn her eyes away from the screen to look at her daughter. The disbelief on her face and the harshness of her voice made Santana flinch.

Knowing that her voice wouldn't be able to answer coherently, Santana could only nod. It took every ounce of strength to keep herself together and stay strong and stoic when all she wanted was to crawl under the table and hide and wait until it was all over and _everything would be okay_.

"Is it true?" Now, Dad was looking directly at her, and the anger in his eyes only doubled Santana's terror. She was used to being the target of Coach Sylvester's various moods and bouts of aggression, but this… this was something else entirely. This was a new kind of fear she'd never felt before, not even when she'd come to terms with herself, not even when she admitted her feelings to Brittany, not even when Finn Hudson dragged her out of the closet… and not even when she was getting ready for this moment.

"Y-y-y…" Santana swallowed, trying to regain control of her body. It was trembling so badly, she was almost sure that they could see. Where was the acceptance that she'd been hoping for? Where was the _okay_ part of this? Keeping herself together was becoming increasingly difficult. How much longer was this going to drag on?

"Uh-huh." Santana finally managed to choke out, accompanying it with a nod in case the sound she'd made had been too unsteady. Couldn't she just skip forward to the part where they could all hug and say that it's fine, they'd known all along and it wasn't a problem for anyone?

"So you really are… are… _that_?" Dad couldn't say it, his face twisted into a grimace of disgust, his voice rising in volume. Slowly, he stood from his seat, looming over her with a large frame that was now threatening and frightening when it used to be protective. "That really, _truly_ is what you are?"

Santana slid to the edge of her chair, looking up at him and not knowing what to say. Her heart was beating so strongly, so quickly that it hurt, and it seemed just about ready to burst out of her chest. And at this moment, she actually wished that it would.

"I-It doesn't change anything. It-It's not a big deal!" The words tumbled out of Santana's mouth in a nervous rush.

"Don't you _dare_ downplay this! It's a _disgrace_!" Now, his voice was even louder, a yell of anger.

"But D-"

"How long? How long has this been going on? Have you been fooling around with that blond girl? Lying to us and leading us to believe it was innocent friendship when the truth was that you were engaging in _sin_?" It was a roar of unbridled fury.

What followed next was a very high-definition close-up view of her father's wedding ring.

* * *

><p>It was getting late. Brittany tried to stay calm and think positively, but it was getting harder and harder to do that. Even the latest episode of One Tree Hill couldn't keep her from worrying about Santana.<p>

Her own parents accepted her and even _approved_ of Santana. Why would it be any different for Santana's parents? Brittany brushed her bangs out of her face and checked her cell phone, but still, there was no word from Santana. Which _should_ be understandable. Maybe they were still talking it over. Maybe Mr. Lopez got home late from work, so Santana was still working on telling him. Maybe things were going great and they were engaging in some family bonding time and Santana was just too focused to send a text.

* * *

><p>Time seemed to just come to a stop. The gravity of what was happening sunk in and hit her faster and more painfully than the blow itself. The face of the man ominously standing over her was one that Santana could barely recognize. That piercing fact was what hurt more than her throbbing eye and it kept her frozen to the floor, too stunned to react.<p>

Helplessly, Santana looked away from the man and turned to the woman. Would she still see her mom or just another angry stranger? All she got was a view of the back of the woman's head, black hair taking away any chance of glimpsing the face, turned away as it was.

* * *

><p>Still, no new messages were showing up on her phone.<p>

Trying to keep herself from worrying too much, Brittany went through the gallery folder. What was first to greet her was a picture of Santana and herself, with Breadstix at the background. It was taken during what Brittany had originally considered a regular date. But to Santana, it was their _first_ date. It was the night when Santana had finally come to terms with the fact that the two of them were _together_.

To Brittany, it was both sweet and surprising that Santana asked if they could have a picture together to remember the moment.

The smiling, beautiful girl in the picture was the side of Santana Lopez that very few people ever saw. She was sweet and funny and so much deeper and full of emotion than the aggressive, shielded person everyone else knew. Brittany found herself smiling as she recalled how moved Santana had been upon realizing that it was a real date and not just two friends meeting up and hanging out.

"Dinner wus grand t'night, wusn't it, Brittany?" Brittany put her phone down and looked behind her to see Rory, his hands on the back of the couch and a smile on his face. "Yer muther's a rightly skilled cook, she is!"

"Yeah, it was good." Brittany nodded distractedly. His accent still was a challenge to understand, and sometimes she _still_ doubted if he was really speaking in English or not, but Brittany was slowly getting the hang of it. She'd been angry with him for a while, once she'd realized that he had lied to her about being a leprechaun.

The anger was barely there now. Staying mad at someone took too much effort, especially when that person lives in the same house.

Finn was another story though.

"So is dat the One Tree on a Hill show ya wur talkin' abowt?" Rory asked.

Brittany had to process what he said for a minute or so before she finally understood what he was saying. "Uh… uhhuh."

"Yer no' still mad at me fer dat tuym I pretended t'be a leprechaun, are ya?" The guilty pout Rory wore made Brittany feel bad about acting coldly towards him. He was only trying to have a friendly conversation with her.

To let him know that she was over it, Brittany smiled and was just opening her mouth to speak when her phone started ringing.

Immediately, Brittany picked it up and put it to her ear, at the same time lifting a palm to silence Rory. "Hello?"

"Britt…" It was Santana, and if Brittany didn't know her so well, the voice wouldn't have been recognizable, whispered so softly and so weakly. What was said next was too inaudible though.

"San, could you say that again, please?" Cold, icy dread was filling Brittany. Something was very _very_ wrong.

"H-help…" The words were cut off by what sounded like breathing, forcing Brittany to anxiously wait for the continuation. "Need you…"

The fears that Brittany had all day been pushing away with tremendous effort came back with renewed energy. In a flash, she was off the couch and reaching for the keys to the family car. "Where are you?"

Rory's questions of what was going on and where she was going was just barely audible noise in the background as Brittany pressed her phone harder against her ear to better hear Santana's reply. "At… at the end…" another pause, "…of Cedar Street.."

"The Park?" Brittany remembered the small park just a five or ten minute walk away from Santana's house. It was one of the places where they would play in their childhood and then practice cheerleading moves in their adolescence.

"Yeah…" The reply was one that could barely be heard.

"I'm coming." Brittany spoke firmly, despite her trembling knees. "Just stay there, San and _stay_ _safe_. I'm coming to get you. I'll be there soon."

After what sounded like "thanks" the call ended and Brittany was rushing out of the house with hastily given instructions for Rory to tell her parents that she would be back soon.

* * *

><p><em>She wants to go home, but nobody's home. <em>

_That's where she lies- broken inside._

_With no place to go. No place to go… _

_to dry here eyes. Broken inside._

_Her feelings, she hides. Her dreams, she can't find._

A sound that was somewhere between a grunt, a laugh and a sob left Santana's lips, and with it, she pulled her earphones out of her ears. Somehow, in the rush to grab and pack what she could in the short time she'd been given, Santana had managed to grab her iPod.

Sitting in the grass, she'd started listening to it, hoping that it would distract her during the wait that would take at least half an hour. Instead, the first song that played just made her feel worse. "Fuck you, Avril Lavigne." Santana grumbled, hugging her knees and trying to push her mind as far away from here as possible. If only she'd gotten the cigarettes hidden under her mattress instead of her iPod. Those would have been more effective.

The cold evening breeze sent shivers throughout her exhausted body.

Everything was _not_ okay.

* * *

><p>Quinn was trying to keep herself busy with a book when her phone started ringing. A quick glance at the clock told her it was 10:30pm and looking at her phone's screen told her it was Brittany. Was this good news or bad news? Not sure what to assume and trying to think as optimistically as her friend would, Quinn answered.<p>

"Quinn, I'm panicking! Is this what having a heart attackfeelslikebecause-"

"Britt, breathe!" Just the tone of Brittany's voice confirmed that this was a call that wouldn't be bringing any good news. Quinn tried to calm her friend. "Just breathe, okay? Inhale… that's it. Exhale."

At the other end of the line, she could hear the panicked breaths slowly growing steady. When Britt spoke again, there was still a slight hint of panic to it, but it was definitely calmer. "I don't know what happened, but I know something's wrong."

"What-"

"I'm driving to Santana to pick her up and I'm worried and I'm having trouble thinking and breathing and driving and calling you at the same time." Brittany's voice had picked up in speed and pitch again. She was _driving_? Quinn hoped she was at least wearing her seatbelt and on speakerphone.

"Okay-okay-uh-" Quinn had to calm herself lest she wind up alarming Brittany further. "Just… just do this, okay?"

"Do what?"

"Focus on where you're going and-and just drive. Concentrate and stay calm. You're not going to be any help to Santana if you're a wreck." Was that the right thing to say? Quinn hoped it was. She was no Ms. Pillsbury and this was the first time she'd had to calm Brittany over the phone.

"I'm really _really_ reallyreallyreally scared for her." Brittany gasped out. "She's at the park and I think she's alone and it's darkandlateand-"

"J-just-just focus on _getting_ _there_." Quinn insisted. "You're going to help her and she'll be alright once you're there." If there was one thing Quinn knew about the two it was that when one was down, being with and comforted by the other called forth significant improvement. "Just you being there will be a big help, you know that."

* * *

><p>Brittany nodded, then when she remembered that Quinn couldn't see, she said, "Y-yeah, okay." Images of Santana in the park by herself this late threatened to overwhelm her again, but Brittany forced them away and focused on the road ahead of her.<p>

"Just concentrate on getting there, alright?"

"I will." Brittany replied.

"And don't forget to breathe. And call me if it happens again." Now Quinn sounded like a mom. Still, Brittany appreciated it and was grateful that Quinn had helped her start thinking clearly again. The panic that had come over her just moments ago threatened to get her lost in thoughts and images, no matter how familiar this route was.

"Thanks a lot, Quinn!" Brittany said, "I'm almost there. Talk to you soon! Bye!" Fumbling for her phone on her lap without looking at it, she ended the call.

Not long after, the park came into view. Brittany slowed the car and rolled the windows down, keeping an eye out for Santana as well as continuing to move forward and not bump into anything.

Soon enough, the figure of someone crouched down came into view. The several lampposts the place had was just enough for her to see the person and recognize Santana.

After hastily stopping the car in front of her, Brittany rushed out.

Santana looked up, but otherwise, she barely moved.

As Brittany came nearer, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she got a clearer image of the girl sitting on the grass. What she saw threatened to bring back the waves of panic. Her hands were already starting to shake. The dizziness was creeping back.

Focus. Brittany did as Quinn had told her and focused on Santana and helping her. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Santana's left eye looked like it was swelling and barely open, while the right side of her pants was jaggedly ripped from the knee until halfway down the shin. The dark splotches on the cloth could only be blood. The skin that peeked through the torn fabric was scraped and bloody.

"San…" Brittany crouched down in front of her.

"Hi."

After a short moment of hesitation, Brittany brought her hand out to hold Santana's. At first, there was no response.

Then a squeeze.

Then she spoke in a voice that was flat and emotionless, "We should get in the car before someone steals it and we wind up stuck here all night. I'm _so_ not down with that." The last part had a little more spark, but just barely.

Brittany nodded, "Right." She slowly stood up, still holding Santana's hand.

There was a short pause before Santana pulled herself up with Brittany's help. It wasn't hard to miss how unsteady on her feet she looked. Questions were begging to be released as curiosity added itself to the mixture of worry, but Brittany held them back. Santana didn't look ready to talk much right now. Instead, Brittany moved closer to her, in a silent offer.

Santana accepted it, leaning against Brittany for support.

"Do you wanna sit at the back where you can lie down, or at the front?"

"Fr…" Santana stopped. "Back… but will you…" Brittany felt the shiver that went through Santana. "… will you sit with me for a while?" The request sounded quietly desperate.

Brittany nodded, "Of course." She helped Santana into the car, carefully but subtly keeping an eye on Santana's bleeding leg.

Spotting the Cheerios sports bag lying abandoned on the ground, Brittany quickly retrieved it and placed it in the passenger seat before joining Santana and locking the doors.

The controlled, shielded Santana that first entered the car crumbled away to reveal the shattered, hurting girl underneath. Trembling fingers clutched Brittany's jacket tightly. "They… hate me…"

"I'm so sorry…" was the only thing Brittany could think of saying as she wrapped her arms around Santana.

"I'm a disgrace, they said." Santana put her forehead against Brittany's shoulder. "I'm disgusting and cowardly and selfish and mean."

"No, you're not." Brittany stroked Santana's hair, trying to be as gentle as possible and avoiding a bump that she knew hadn't been there before. "You're the bravest person I know, San. Whatever happens, whatever anyone says, I _know_ you're not a bad person."

"I'm a rude bitch and you're… you're the nicest person ever… I don't deserve you."

"Santana, stop that." Brittany took her arms away, and moved her shoulder out from under Santana's head. A small sound of protest followed, but was stopped short when Brittany held Santana's face. Blue eyes met a watery brown one. "We're here now, we're together now. If that's not proof enough that we deserve each other, then I don't know what is."

No sound of confirmation came, but at least there was no objection. Which was, admittedly, an improvement.

"Remember when we were eight and a boy made fun of me?" Santana mumbled what sounded like an affirmation. That was progress. "You tackled him to the ground and made sure he would never bully me again." Brittany found herself smiling slightly, as the memory played out in her head. "You also made sure that his chances of having children would be a lot less than most other guys."

"That was years ago, I've changed since then." Santana was objecting again, but her tone wasn't as defeated as it had been earlier, and Brittany thought she'd heard the smallest of chuckles.

"Okay, a recent example?" Brittany had one ready. "Last year, Karofsky." Inwardly, Brittany cringed at the memory of the brief time Santana and Dave Karofsky '_dated'_. It was gross. But that was beside the point and not the focus of this recollection. "The Night of Neglect Concert we did, remember that night?"

"Tina cried like she had some kind of waterfall inside her face." At least some of San's old spunk was coming back.

"You told me about how Karofsky was causing trouble for Blaine and Kurt. You came in and saved them and scared the heck out of him."

A smile found its way to Santana's face. "I remember that night."

"Karofsky's like two or three times your size, but you weren't afraid of him." Brittany continued. "_He_ was afraid of _you_."

"Yeah, I sent him running for his life, didn't I?"

"Yes you did!" Brittany rubbed noses with Santana. "See? You're not a bad person."

Just when Brittany thought that things were lightening up at last, Santana started tearing up again.

"Britt… can… can I… will your parents let me stay at your place for a few days?"

Brittany hugged her. "Of course. My parents love you."

"Mine don't anymore." The bitterness and pain was clear in Santana's tone. "I'm a disgrace to the family. Not a Lopez anymore. Not welcome in their house anymore." Brittany felt her jacket sleeve getting soaked through. "This isn't… this… I-I can't... I can't change this side of me. God knows I've tried hard as hell to change it, then to hide it, but I'm just _sick_ and _tired_ of _fighting_ it." Brittany had never really had much of a problem accepting that she was into guys and girls, but she knew that it was different for Santana. That Santana had tried so hard to convince herself she was attracted to the guys she'd toyed with and tossed out when the truth was far from it.

"They never wanna see me again." Santana's words melted into incoherent sobs that pained Brittany to hear.

"Sshh… I'm here." Brittany held the broken, trembling girl. "You're safe with me and I'm never letting anyone hurt you again."

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> This is probably just another cliche pile of angst, but it's something I just had to get out of my system and write, y'know? Besides, it has fluff here and there.

And the made up street is made up.

And I think this story has a chapter or two left in it.

Read and review :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: This chapter was a challenge to write because I had several ideas in mind, with their own resulting mini-arcs, and I had to choose between them because most of them were pretty conflicting. Also, I find it mildly amusing how this story keeps begging me to make it longer. It's like it's writing itself.

I _think_ I can wrap this up in one more chapter. But at the rate it's been going lately, I'm not going to promise anything.

Also, I feel the urge to say that it's Friday in this chapter. I mentioned it in a scene as I was writing, but that scene ended up being pushed to Chapter Five, so... there.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

* * *

><p>The drive home was quiet.<p>

Sort of.

Brittany left Santana to rest in the back seat, understanding that the poor girl must be drained. Physically and emotionally. Sleep would do her good. But occasionally, a muffled sob would reveal that Santana wasn't asleep the _entire_ ride. The last half of the trip though, she had completely quieted, and Brittany suspected that she'd finally been claimed by sleep. That would do her some good… hopefully it was sleep with pleasant dreams or none at all.

How could this have happened? Brittany struggled to wrap her head around it. Questions invaded her mind, army upon army. Brittany's own parents had accepted her and still loved her no matter what. Kurt's father had known about him all along and was accepting, even incredibly protective. Blaine… well Brittany wasn't sure since they didn't talk that much. But if he dressed as nicely as he did, then Brittany thought it was safe to assume that he wasn't homeless.

Still though… why was it that some parents were able to love their children no matter what? Why was it that their love wasn't changeable or removable? Why was it that some people weren't the same way? Why were there people that would actually do what… what Santana's parents had just done? Why was it that Brittany and Kurt had understanding, accepting parents but Santana didn't?

Were they more… _worthy_?

Brittany frowned. No. It couldn't be that way. She doubted the world worked that way. Besides, Santana didn't deserve this. She may be mean sometimes, but she was not a bad person.

No one deserved this.

Still… it happened…

With a sigh, Brittany gave up trying to comprehend the workings of the world. In her head, she heard Santana say, "_That's just the way things are."_

This was followed my Quinn's message of, "_Just concentrate on helping her."_

That was just what Brittany was going to do. Santana needed her now. This time, she was the one who needed the protecting. She was the one who needed to be taken care of. Brittany promised herself that she would stay strong and get Santana through this nightmare. It was the least she could do.

With this in mind, Brittany brought the car to a stop in front of her house. It was past midnight now. Though staying up this late was normal for her, Brittany knew her sister was already in bed. They still had school in a few hours, after all. Hopefully, this arrival wouldn't wake her.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Brittany got off the driver's seat and opened the door that was nearest to Santana. There was no movement; no reaction that showed her that San might be awake. Brittany took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The extreme workouts Coach Sylvester put them through enhanced what Brittany had a few years ago realized was her above-average strength. Plus Santana was light and didn't weigh much. She could do this.

Taking great care, Brittany slipped her arms under Santana and pulled her out of the car. Already, she'd known that Santana was a lightweight, but Brittany hadn't expected her to weigh _this_ little. Had she been eating at all?

Closing the car door with a nudge from her hip, Brittany remembered Santana eating a bit during lunch, but it was little more than a few bites. The day after Finn outed her in the hallway, Santana hadn't eaten anything at all. Brittany's mind would have dwelled on her worries about San's appetite, but the next problem she was confronted with distracted her.

How to open the front door?

She'd forgotten the house keys in her rush to get to Santana as soon as possible.

What now?

Letting out a soft grumble of protest, Santana readjusted her head's position on Brittany's shoulder, but thankfully, her eyes stayed closed and she seemed to remain in the realm of sleep.

Fortunately, Brittany didn't have long to worry about how to get into the house, because the door swung open, revealing Rory. "Whur've y'been, Brittany? Yur pare-" The boy's eyes widened, and for a while, he just stared.

"Rory, I didn't understand a thing you just said, but please let me in."

Rory blinked. After that, he nodded, opening the door wider and moving aside, giving her enough space to get herself and Santana into the house. "Thanks," Brittany said, heading for her room.

"Brittany, what's going on here?"

Brittany stopped in her tracks. That was Dad.

"Is that… is that _Santana_?"

That was Mom.

Biting her lip, Brittany hoped they would be okay with this. She turned around to face her parents, who were sitting in the living room, looking like they'd been waiting for her the whole time. Guilt went through her as she realized that she might have made them extremely worried about her.

"Mom… dad…" Brittany looked from one to the other. "I'm really sorry… I… I was… They… Santana-she-I…" How was she supposed to explain this? Brittany shifted her weight from one foot to the other, struggling to organize her thoughts and come up with an explanation that would make sense.

"Bring her here." Mom stood up from the couch and gestured for her to put Santana on it.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Dad added.

Brittany smiled, feeling extremely thankful to have parents like hers.

* * *

><p>Burning pain raking her knee was what violently wrenched her from sleep and plunged her into the waking world. Santana recoiled with a hiss, scrambling to the edge of what she recognized was a couch.<p>

Wait, _couch_?

Through gritted teeth, Santana looked around in an effort to get her bearings. The cushioned sofa… the TV set and stack of Disney DVDs next to it… a small pail of water next to Mrs. Pierce, who was crouching down on the floor. Mr. Pierce standing over her right side. The Irish kid standing a short distance away, watching with his eyes open wide.

"San, we're sorry we woke you." Santana looked over her shoulder and was relieved to see Brittany behind her.

Still disoriented, Santana tried to understand what was going on. "What-" The question was stopped short and changed into a gasp as raising her eyebrow sent pain shooting throughout the area around her left eye. This was accompanied by the realization that she had a headache, a tender spot at the back of her head and a series of bruises scattered over her body. What hurt her most though was her right leg, concentrated on the knee and part of the shin.

"Aww, San!" Brittany was quick to sense her pain, of course. Immediately, she was wrapping her arms around Santana. "Mom's cleaning you up and you'll feel better soon."

Santana met Mrs. Pierce's eyes, and not for the first time, was struck by how strongly they resembled Brittany's. Now more than ever, they reflected concern and… _love_?

"I had to cut through your jeans to be able to gain better access to the wound." Mrs. Pierce explained. Santana looked down at torn strips of fabric on the floor she hadn't noticed before. The right leg of her jeans now stopped just above her knee, which was a scarlet mess that made her cringe.

"It doesn't look like it's very deep," Mrs. Pierce reassured her. "The scrape's just wide. It's not bleeding anymore."

Santana just nodded, too lost in a jumble of words and emotions to come up with a decent response. Brittany's parents were… _helping_ her. They _cared_…

"I'm still not done with cleaning it up though," Mrs. Pierce gestured to the pail next to her and the cloth in her hand. "It'll sting a bit, but I need you to stay still." Those blue eyes focusing on her were piercing. "Can you do that for me?"

Santana nodded, leaning back against the couch's armrest. Brittany's hand touched hers. Gratefully, Santana accepted the offer, intertwining their fingers.

"Mrs. Pierce…" Santana watched as the woman continued to gently dab at the wound. "T-thank you…" She didn't know how else to express her gratitude, and she had no idea how to repay these unbelievably kind people.

"You're welcome dear," Mrs. Pierce paused to smile at her before continuing with the task at hand. "You're also welcome to stay here for as long as you need. We consider you as part of our family."

* * *

><p>Later that night (or earlier that morning. Brittany wasn't sure how to look at it), after Santana had her knee bandaged up and ointment placed around her eye and on the worst of her bruises, she was helped to Brittany's room, where she immediately lay on the bed.<p>

Brittany joined her under the thick cover of the blanket.

Silence hovered between them, leading Brittany on to assume that Santana might have gone back to sleep. This theory was disproven soon enough, though. "Britt… This isn't… _wrong_… is it?"

"What do you mean?" Brittany asked, propping herself up with her elbow to get a better look at Santana.

The black eye looked even worse. Before getting consumed by worry, Brittany reminded herself that Mom had said it would swell worse for a day or so before going away on its own. "I mean… _us_." Santana then hastily added, "I mean… _we're_ right and _they're_ wrong… right?"

Brittany frowned. The words 'right' and 'wrong' were starting to sound weird with how much they were being used. But she understood what Santana meant quickly enough.

Moving closer to Santana, Brittany placed a hand on her cheek. Her white skin contrasted with Santana's tan skin more noticeably in the dim glow of the nightlight. "What we have is right, Santana. Love is love and it's never wrong."

Surprisingly, Santana's teeth flashed in a smile, "God, you're _so_ frickin' cheesy."

Encouraged by the sudden change in Santana's mood, Brittany smiled back, "I'm cheesy, but I'm still right."

"Yes, you are." Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist and pulled her closer. Their bodies seemed to fit next to each other perfectly, and nothing felt more _right_ than being so close to Santana. The distance between their faces was so small, their noses were already touching.

Brittany watched Santana closed her eyes before doing the same. A short moment of comfortable silence passed between them. Brittany was beginning to think it was finally time to sleep when Santana spoke again.

"Britt?"

"Hmm?" Brittany opened her eyes.

"You think your parents are really down with me… y'know… being here and everything?" The doubt and fear could clearly be seen on Santana's face, even in this dim light.

It would take a lot of encouragement and reminders for Santana to finally feel comfortable. Brittany knew that this would take time, and she was more than willing to be patient. "I know they are, San." She moved slightly away, to be able to give Santana a kiss on the forehead. "You're welcome here. Remember that."

"That… really means a lot to me."

"Who's cheesy now?" Brittany giggled, poking Santana's nose.

"Way to ruin the moment, Britt. I was supposed to give some awesome, heart-wrenching speech that would've made Coach Sylvester and Coach Beiste hug each other and cry like Tina when someone gets a hangnail."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Brittany teased, "Go ahead, deliver your speech then."

"Nuh-uh, no way. You killed it and it's gonna stay dead."

Brittany smiled, glad that at least partially, at least for this short moment, Santana seemed to be feeling just a little bit better. "Fine, if you say so." She moved even closer. When Santana didn't pull away or let her smile fade, Brittany kissed her briefly.

"What was that for?" Santana asked, taking her arms from Brittany's waist and transferring her hands to the blond's face.

Brittany shrugged, unable to stop the smile that took control of her lips. "Because I love you?"

Santana beamed, and Brittany found herself thinking about how beautiful she was. No black eye or bruise or whatever would ever be able to change that. "Aand… because I think you're the most beautiful person in the world."

"I don't know if I should hit you or kiss you for being so damn corny, Britt-Britt."

Pretending to think about it, Brittany didn't answer immediately. She allowed a short pause to follow Santana's comment before saying, "I think I'd prefer a kiss."

"Fine," Santana initiated a kiss that lasted a _lot_ longer this time. It summoned forth feelings that were like Brittany's stomach was doing several back flips and cartwheels, while waves of heat rushed to her face and electricity coursed through her body. By the time their lips parted, both of them were breathless and exchanging grins.

Then Santana's smile faded, "I think that's enough for tonight," She pulled the blanket back over their shoulders. Apparently, their movements had let it slip down to their thighs.

"You sure?" Brittany asked, sensing that something was wrong.

"Yeah… I'm just… I'm just tired." Santana answered evasively, not meeting her eyes.

"Do you want to talk?" In an effort to show that she was concerned and willing to listen, Brittany hugged Santana.

Santana didn't pull away, instead relaxing in Brittany's arms. But her verbal reply was the opposite. "Maybe in the morning…" Santana closed her eyes.

Knowing that Santana would be even less likely to open up if she was pushed, Brittany decided to let her be. She would talk about whatever she had going through her mind when she was ready, and not a moment before.

"Good night, San." Brittany gave Santana a peck on the cheek before settling her head on the pillow.

"Night, Britt."

* * *

><p><em>William McKinley, this school's namesake, was the twenty-fifth president of the United States. It was during his term that the Spanish-American war went on. He led the nation to victory in one hundred days.<em>

Mrs. Hagberg droned on and on, using a monotonous voice that seemed to encourage the students to let their minds wander. Quinn tried to pay attention, tried to absorb and retain the information, but it was a difficult battle to win. The odds of attaining victory in the war against falling asleep weren't good. Additionally, she'd been awake most of the night, consumed by thoughts that alternated between Beth and Santana.

"Quinn!"

The whisper startled Quinn slightly, causing her to flinch. It wasn't enough to draw attention to herself though. "What?" She asked over her shoulder.

It was Mercedes. Quinn was reminded of yet another friendship she'd neglected for the past several months. Not for the first time this week, she wondered how she could have gotten so caught up in her mission to get Beth back that she'd left behind some of her most supportive friends.

"Have you heard from Brittany or Santana after that whole Finn-slapping drama show went down?"

Quinn didn't know all the details since she hadn't been in touch with Brittany other than a quick text last night that had said Santana was at the Pierce household and safe. Still, she wasn't sure how much information she could give out, so she tried to choose her words carefully when she replied, "Santana… had to go and stay in Brittany's house last night… I don't know much about exactly what happened though…"

"Ohh…." Mercedes nodded, "I'm just… a little worried. I heard about the commercial… and… I… I just wish there was something I could do."

"Me too…"

"Ms. Fabray, Ms. Jones." Quinn and Mercedes cringed. "Could either of you recite the names of all the United States presidents? In order?"

* * *

><p>Brittany toyed with the lock, struggling to remember the combination. Worry and guilt kept distracting her. She would rather be at home, taking care of Santana instead of spending the day in school, just waiting for class to be over. She would have, if her mother hadn't insisted on her going to school and assuring her that Santana would be well cared for.<p>

Geometry was confusing enough when Santana was next to her and helping her out, but alone… there was no making sense of any of those letters and numbers and symbols.

"So I'm thinkin', if I sing Hot for Teacher, and Mike and Blaine do those moves again, we'd kick ass at Sectionals!"

"I really don't think that's an appropriate selection for Sectionals, Noah."

"Yeah, we need something _really_ _good_ to beat Troubletones." Upon hearing the third voice, intense anger hit Brittany at full force. That was none other than Finn Hudson. It was _his_ fault that people found out about Santana before she was ready, _his_ fault that someone told the candidate, _his_ fault that Santana had been driven out by her parents.

"Exactly! With Mercedes and Santana's voices, combined with Brittany's dancing, Troubletones is, as much as I regret to admit it, a force to be reckoned with." Rachel Berry was saying.

The three of them- Puck, Rachel and Finn- were walking down the hallway, still a few paces away from Brittany, but she could hear what they were saying. The tremendous effort it took for Brittany to stay calm came as a surprise to herself. It was always Santana who had the fiery temper and vicious words. Brittany was never anywhere near as hotheaded, and it took a lot to get her angry.

This rage was just very unfamiliar.

"Speaking of Santana, I didn't see her in Geography this morning. Brittany was alone. What's up with that?" Puck asked.

"Weird. Usually those two are always stuck to each other." Finn's reply was said in a different tone… distracted… or like he didn't want the conversation to stay on this particular subject.

Brittany realized that she'd been clutching the lock tightly. Releasing it, she watched the white dents it had imprinted on her palm slowly change back into pink.

"Heh, maybe she was off practicing her slap so she could leave a permanent mark on you, dude." Puck joked.

"She shouldn't have done that." Finn grumbled at a volume that was noticeably softer, but it was still just loud enough that Brittany was able to hear it.

And Brittany had heard enough. Leaving her locker, she went straight for the three New Directions members, keeping her eyes focused on the tall quarterback. Finn flashed what looked like an uncomfortable smile, to greet her. But he seemed to have sensed that something was wrong, because the smile faded and his eyebrows rose up.

"You're supposed to be the _leader_, Finn. You're supposed to do the right thing. But what you did was _wrong_." Brittany stepped closer. Finn took a step back, casting helpless glances at Rachel and Puck. "Because of _you_, Santana's hurting. Because-"

"Hurting? What's that got to do with me? Isn't it all part of the whole… coming out… process… thing?" Finn took another step backwards, looking extremely uncomfortable, shoulders tense and hunched.

"She was kicked out of her own home!" Brittany all but shrieked out the words. She wanted to drill some sense straight through his thick skull. How could he be so clueless? It was _infuriating_! Santana would have sent a kick straight into his man-parts by now if she'd been the one having this conversation. Probably two kicks. "Her family _threw_ _her_ _out_!"

"Th-they _what_?" Finn's eyes widened, but he continued to try putting distance between Brittany and himself. A few more times, he looked at Rachel and Puck.

Still fueled by her steadily rising anger, Brittany didn't stop closing the distance he kept trying to create. "And did you know that after that, she called her _abuela_ before she called me? And you know what her _abuela_ said?"

"Uhh…" She could see what looked like a mixture of guilt and fear in Finn's eyes as he persistently retreated while she consistently pursued.

It wasn't long before she had him backed up against the lockers. "She told Santana not to call her again and she _hung_ _up_." People were already staring, but Brittany was well beyond caring about what any of the other students might be thinking. "You _destroyed_ her life."

"I-I didn't mean to-"

Brittany swung her fist, as hard as she could.

Finn shut his eyes. Rachel screamed.

The locker door was struck with such force that the sound of the impact echoed throughout the hallway and caused the surrounding crowd to stop and stare. The pain that shot through her fist was easy enough to ignore. When she lowered her hand, Brittany briefly noticed that she'd left a dent.

_So_ _very_ _badly_, she had wanted to hit Finn. She wanted to make him _hurt_. She wanted him to feel _every_ little pain that Santana was feeling now.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She just… _couldn't_.

Then the whispering started.

Breathing heavily, Brittany glared at Finn. He had his mouth agape, while his eyes kept shooting from the dent to her fist to her face. What else did she have to say to him? The anger she was still feeling was just raw emotion now, with no words left to express. Brittany stepped away from him before going through a crowd that parted to make way, and followed her with whispers and stares.

* * *

><p>Chatter and gossip was thriving in the New Directions choir room. Quinn found it slightly surprising that Santana was a hot topic. Ever since she and Brittany left them to join Troubletones, all talk had been focused on preparing for Sectionals, and naturally, arguments over who deserved solos more. That and debates about what particular songs to sing.<p>

But apparently, some of the Troubletones members still held a place in the hearts of New Directions.

"Brittany wus out rully late last night. Whun she got back, she'd the girl wid the lips wid her. Holdin' her in'er arms an' it looked like someone'd made a right bags o' her face! Her eye looked banjaxed, I tell ya!" Rory chattered away in his thick accent to Artie, who was nodding his head and trying to decipher the Irish boy's dialogue.

"Okay, wait… so… Brittany went out to bring Santana to the Pierce house… right? And wait, was Brittany hurt or was Santana hurt?"

"Santana, 'twas her dat wus hurt. Brittany's mum said that'er eye'd be fuyn again in a couple o' days. But still! Y'shoulda seen 'ow bad it looked!"

"The campaign ad was showed last night," Kurt was telling Tina and Mike, "I saw it and was _appalled_. I hope that horrible man loses, because I swear-"

"She's out of control! They both are!" Finn was venting, but it looked like only Rachel had the patience to listen. "They're worse than Quinn when she was pregnant!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Finn looked at her and hastily added, "No offense, Quinn! I-I didn't mean that!"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"But Finn, try to see it from their point of view." Rachel had her arms around Finn as she tried to send her message to him as gently as possible. "Apparently, they're going through some hard times and-"

"But why are they blaming it all on me?" Finn moved away from his girlfriend. "It's not like I caused it all!"

"You kind of did." Kurt interjected.

Finn glared at Kurt.

"Guys, come on, let's just calm down." Ever the peacemaker flaunting his charisma, Blaine came between them. "Finn, we understand that you're not the one who made that campaign ad. But it was still wrong when you outed Santana in the hallway." When Finn looked like he was going to object, Blaine didn't give him the chance, "But it was also still wrong for Santana to have been picking on us as harshly as she did."

Blaine then turned to Kurt. "And Kurt, yes, Finn made a mistake, but we shouldn't antagonize him for the rest of… whenever." It didn't look like Kurt was ready to drop the subject any time soon. "We're a team. We shouldn't be turning on each other like this. Right?"

"Yeah, you said your piece." Finn said bitterly. "Thanks. We've heard enough speeches for today." Once again, his jealousy and resentment towards Blaine was made incredibly obvious.

"Finn made a mistake, we all know that." Kurt replied to Blaine, "But I want to hear _him_ say that."

Quinn watched as Finn set his jaw and looked away. How could she have missed out on _him_ changing? The Finn standing in the choir room now, too proud to admit that he was wrong, wasn't the Finn she'd known last year.

"Well, Finn? Why can't you just admit it?" Kurt pressed, stepping towards Finn.

Finn turned to the rest of New Directions, taking the time to let his eyes rest on each of them, one by one, looking for someone on his side. Finding no one, not even his beloved girlfriend, he faced Kurt. Quinn could see the tension in his jaw. Kurt on the other hand, red in the face, had his arms folded across his chest, and his chin raised.

It seemed like everyone else as holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Finn opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it and walked out of the choir room.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> Thank wikipedia for giving me info on William McKinley.

Also, since I'm going back to school tomorrow, I might not be able to update this in 1-2 days like the previous chapters, but I promise not to make it a long wait. :)

And if you spotted any typos, I'm really sorry. D: (I was kinda sleepy when I was proofreading this, so I hope I didn't mess anything up _too_ badly)


	5. Chapter 5

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: I know a few of you really wish Brittany's fist met Finn's face, and don't get me wrong, I would've loved seeing some Brittany rage action in Glee. But the thing is, Brittany doesn't strike me as the type of person who could do that... We don't see her really angry that often. (compared to the other girls, who don't seem to mind getting violent sometimes).

She strikes me as a relatively level-headed person, and I think that even if she was really _really_ pissed off, she still wouldn't have the heart to hurt someone. And that could be just another one of the reasons why Santana loves her so much. Opposites attract ;)

Oh, and I actually bothered to google elementary schools in Lima. xD

(and for the sake of this fic, I'm assuming Santana's already eighteen. just saying)

This chapter took a while to write, not just because I have less free time now that the break's over, but because I kept revising and tweaking some scenes until I felt satisfied. (And admittedly, I'm still not completely satisfied with some scenes, but that's life, right? xD) (these chapters are getting longer and longer...)

Still, I hope y'all read on and tell me what you think. :) And if you liked what you read, that'd make me very happy. 8D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

* * *

><p>No matter how hard she tried to fight back the images and voices, they kept coming back relentlessly, unwavering in their mission to overwhelm all her senses. She could see the anger and disgust that drove all traces of love from their eyes… the twisted, enraged face and the repulsed exclamations of disgrace that emitted from it… the <em>fist<em>…

Santana's eyes snapped open, one eye faster than the other. Still surrounded by feelings of terror and pain, she sat up abruptly. The movement caused bolts of agony to rush through various parts of her body, only further reminding her of the previous night's events.

With a hiss through gritted teeth, Santana seized fistfuls of blanket and pillow and waited for the excruciating throbbing to subside. Silently, she berated herself for being so bothered by the soreness. _Get a grip! You've dealt with worse bruises during those hallway smackdowns last year. Quit being such a wuss!_ As the burning agony receded to dull aches, Santana released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Feeling slightly calmer, Santana looked around.

Light was streaming through the gap between the curtains, illuminating the gentle blues of Brittany's room. Knowing that she was in the room of Brittany S. Pierce, and had spent the previous night in her arms made Santana feel strangely at peace.

Still… that didn't give her much information regarding what time it was now and how long she'd been snoring away in here. Reaching for the bedside table, Santana searched for her watch.

When she couldn't find it, Santana stopped and remembered that it had been left behind... in her room... on her pillow.

The knowledge that whatever belongings she had in Brittany's room now were all she had left of the home that was no longer hers crashed over Santana. It drove away the quick, small feeling of happiness she'd previously felt and sent her spiraling back down into a dark mood.

* * *

><p>Brittany cringed, trying not to wrench her hand back as the nurse inspected it. Forcing herself to stay still, Brittany let her eyes explore her surroundings to keep her mind off of her sore knuckles. They were easy enough to ignore after her confrontation with Finn, but an hour or so later, she could barely use her hand to doodle during class. As a result, Brittany decided to visit the clinic before glee.<p>

Rehearsing with the Troubletones wouldn't be the same without Santana, but Brittany knew that they had to practice as much as possible and give everything their best because Sectionals were coming up.

"Well I'm not surprised it's started swelling since you punched a _locker_, Brittany." The nurse said, letting go of Brittany's hand and walking to a corner of the clinic to retrieve something.

"But I need to interview the future Miss President!" Jacob Ben Israel's recognizable voice came from behind her. Brittany looked over her shoulder to see him being shoved back by Mercedes.

"That girl don't need you adding to her stress. Out!"

"Word on the street is that our President-To-Be was seen in conflict with mediocre Football Quarterback Finn Hudson. The public has a right to know what driving forces were behind-"

"Get out of my sight before I decide to whoop your ass so bad, you'll be blogging with your tongue coz when I'm through with you, there won't be anything left that you can move." At Mercedes's threat, Jacob turned pale and scurried away, hugging his camera and pad paper close to his chest.

The nurse came back with an icepack. Seeing Mercedes, she looked the student up and down before saying, "You a patient or a visitor?"

"Just here to accompany my friend." Mercedes linked arms with Brittany and beamed at the nurse.

"Thanks, Mercedes!" Her friend's support was comforting and Brittany appreciated it.

"As long as you stay out of the way." The nurse muttered, taking Brittany's sore hand and placing the icepack against her sensitive, swollen knuckles. "Now Brittany, this doesn't look too serious to me. Probably just bruised up a bit. I've seen worse, believe me." She shook her head slightly, as if the memory of the worse injuries she'd seen bothered her. "Still, if it gets worse, I suggest you have it checked by a doctor to make sure you didn't break anything. Understand?"

Brittany nodded her head. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." The nurse nodded before speaking again, "Do you have a class to be in now?"

Guiltily glancing at Mercedes, Brittany answered, "Troubletones rehearsals starts soon." She bit her lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Um… can I still go? Or do I have to stay here?"

The nurse looked from Brittany to Mercedes. "I don't see why not. You can bring that. But be sure to return it before going home."

Glad to hear this, Brittany took over from the nurse and received the icepack. Immediately, she winced at the explosion of pain.

Ever watchful, the nurse didn't miss it. "Don't press down too hard!"

"Okay," Brittany gasped, trying to be more careful this time. Together with Mercedes, she left the clinic.

"I gotta tell you, Brittany," There was a hint of awe in Mercede's voice as they walked to the choir room together. "I saw that dent you left, and it was _pretty_ _deep_! You got a strong punch, girl!"

The memory came back to her in vivid detail, and so did the anger she felt towards Finn and the worry she felt over Santana. Not wanting to bring Mercedes down with her, Brittany forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah… I guess I do."

Surprisingly, Mercedes picked up on the change in Brittany's mood. When she spoke again, it was in an understanding, sympathetic tone. "Britt… The Troubletones… we're your friends. We're here for you and Santana. You know that, right?"

Brittany nodded, too touched to respond verbally.

If only Santana could have heard that.

* * *

><p>The door slowly swung open with a soft creak. Still lying on Brittany's bed, hiding under the covers, Santana barely looked up. She heard footsteps drawing closer and hoped whoever it was would leave her be. Now just wasn't a time that Santana felt like talking to anyone.<p>

Memories of last night wouldn't leave her alone. They continued to surround her with the distorted, almost unrecognizable faces of strangers she could barely believe were her own parents. Filling her ears were the yells and shouts of outrage and repulsion, drowning out her protests. Again and again the unsympathetic fist came for her face. Her senses were so enveloped by that night, Santana felt like she was choking on her own memories, drowning.

A hand touched her shoulder through the blanket. "Santana, you've got to eat _something_." It was Mrs. Pierce. Just another negative feeling spiraled down into the jumble of emotions she'd been having all day. The food Mrs. Pierce had prepared looked like she'd worked hard on it, and the one bite Santana had taken _did_ taste good. But... she just didn't have much of an appetite.

The hand took hold of a corner of the blanket and pulled it upwards, uncovering Santana's head. "What are you willing to eat?" Mrs. Pierce asked in the most guilt-inducing, tender voice imaginable as she took a seat at the edge of the bed.

Avoiding those brilliantly blue eyes, Santana kept her face tilted downwards and her back to Mrs. Pierce. "Sorry… I'm just… not very hungry."

"Not even just a little bit?" Santana felt fingers beginning to stroke her hair, running through the strands ever so gently. It reminded her of Brittany when they were alone together. The sweet memories were then followed by bittersweet ones, from a decade or so ago. Her mother used to do the same thing whenever Santana would express anxiety before the first day of school, or come home ranting about bullies.

Those moments seemed to be universes away from now. A time before her father got sucked almost completely into the world of his work. Before distance developed between parents and daughter. Before everyday stress gained the tendency to escalate into hostility. Before aggression, fear and denial took control of Santana's mind. _Before_ _things_ _changed_.

"I'm fine." Santana lied, hugging Brittany's pillow against her chest and still refusing to face Mrs. Pierce.

"You and Brittany have been friends since kindergarten..." Mrs. Pierce said, "I remember how she would talk so fondly about you, how you were always protecting her from bullies." Santana tightened her grip on the pillow as Mrs. Pierce continued on. "And there was one afternoon… I was picking Brittany up after school. She was crying and making this big fuss."

Santana had a feeling that she knew what long-ago incident Mrs. Pierce was recalling. If she was right, it was on their first week of first grade in Unity Elementary School.

"She made me park the car and follow her." Mrs. Pierce went on with her narration while the images she described glided into Santana's mind. Admittedly, they were a pleasant change from what had been haunting her all day. "While she led me to you, she told me what happened."

"Some boys were teasing her and calling her stupid." Mrs. Pierce made a soft, hollow laugh. "That always bothered her. It still does, doesn't it?" Santana didn't say anything, not quite ready to trust her voice. The silence didn't discourage Brittany's mother, though, and she went on with her narration. "She told me about how you yelled at them for that."

It seemed to play out in Santana's head like a movie. There were two of them, and to a skinny little Latina, they looked like enormous ogres. Still, that didn't stop her from seeking justice and telling them off for calling Brittany stupid. One thing led to another, taunts turned into shouts, shouts turned into threats, threats turned into action.

The fight hadn't lasted long, the boys ran off once Brittany said the magic words that stop most children in their tracks: '_Mrs_. _Mayers_ _is_ _coming_ _and_ _I'm_ _gonna_ _tell_!' And, realizing how much trouble they'd be in if they got caught, the boys ran off.

"When I saw you, you were sitting on the ground, with your hair a mess, covered in grass and soil, as was the rest of you." Santana remembered how Brittany was practically pulling her mom forward at a run, screaming about needing to hurry. She remembered how it made her uncomfortable that Brittany made such a big deal out of what happened. "Your knees were all scraped… both of them."

Santana thought she heard Mrs. Pierce let out a short laugh. "And you had the most adorable pout on your face! You kept saying that you should've punched them harder, given them stronger kicks because Brittany wasn't stupid and she didn't deserve to be teased by the other children."

Then Mrs. Pierce stopped stroking Santana's hair. "When I asked you if you were alright, you kept saying, '_I'm_ _fine_. _I'm_ _fine_.' Just that. Over and over again."

Not quite sure where Mrs. Pierce was going with this, Santana maintained her silence. "You've always been that way, haven't you? Ever protective of Brittany… and always the strong, tough, fearless one." Santana bit her lip, holding the pillow closer, tighter. Right now, she felt anything but strong, anything but tough. She certainly didn't feel fearless, either. The terror of last night seemed to reawaken in her head.

The sound of the bed creaking could be heard as Mrs. Pierce moved. When she spoke next, her voice came from very close to Santana's ear. "And right now, I can see you still trying to stay strong." It sure as hell didn't feel like it. "But Santana… if you ever get tired of keeping your guard up… don't be afraid. You can trust us to understand." She felt her shoulder being squeezed. "You're not alone."

"Thank you." Santana heard her own voice come out high-pitched and shaky, an embarrassing sound.

"And if you ever want to talk, never forget that we're here to listen. Okay?"

Unable to look away from Mrs. Pierce any longer, Santana rolled onto her other side to face the kind woman. The search for the appropriate words resulted in failure, causing Santana to open and close her mouth mutely. Saving her from struggling further, Mrs. Pierce took Santana into her arms.

All the chaotic emotions bubbling inside of her seemed to grow in intensity until Santana found herself simply weeping onto the shoulder of a mother who wasn't hers.

* * *

><p>Mr. Schue had entered the choir room not long after Finn left, and they immediately greeted him with the latest news, taking turns narrating what he missed as well as adding their own opinions. Quinn had noticed that while some of New Directions had their doubts about being involved with Santana issue, others felt obliged to offer aid. Though all of them agreed that it wouldn't hurt for Finn to apologize to Santana, some still felt that Finn also deserved an apology because Santana had crossed the line with her verbal and physical abuse.<p>

Once he had heard all they had to say, Mr. Schue nodded his head. "Yes, I get where you're coming from, Quinn, Kurt. This must be…" He paused, walking from one point in the room to the other, as if he was trying to think of how best to phrase what he wanted to say. "…a _difficult_ time for Santana… and even if the Troubletones are our rivals, she deserves our support."

"But even if we _did_ try to show her in some way that we're on her side, do you think she'll really appreciate it?" Though Tina had expressed her sympathy for Santana previously, she now gave voice to doubt.

"She does get pretty touchy about stuff like this." Puck gave his input. "As much as the whole her being… y'know... _her..._ kinda makes me wonder if she was secretly hating those times we used to hook up-"

"Get to the point, Puckerman." Quinn rushed him, not wanting to be bombarded with images of Santana looking repulsed while in bed with Puck. It was just too disgustingly awkward to imagine, none of them needed him to describe it.

Plus, she still felt angry with him for telling Ms. Corcoran, and jealous of him for still being able to see Beth.

"I was getting there!" Puck rolled his eyes before continuing. "I kinda know from those times that she's pretty big on pride and stuff like that. I mean… not as bad as Zizes was… but still. Just like how I'm all about my badass-ness, she's totally all about her mean-girl-bitch-ness and if we just go up and hug her, I'm pretty sure she'll freak."

"Wow, Puck, since when were you so insightful?" Quinn asked in a tone that wasn't exactly friendly.

Puck looked like he was about to retort, but Mr. Schue took the chance away from him by speaking first, "I think that's something we might want to take into account. We want to support Santana, but we don't want to offend her while we're doing that."

"Mr. Schue, I'm as concerned for Santana as the next person, but are we really going to spend the whole meeting discussing her when we should be preparing for Sectionals?"

Pointing his marker in Rachel's direction, Mr. Schue nodded. "Actually, I agree with you, Rachel. While I _am_ worried about Santana, I'm not going to have us spend the entire rehearsal time talking about her."

"But we _will_ do something, right?" Quinn insisted.

"Like what?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know!" The desire to help Santana was a persistent feeling, but Quinn still hadn't come up with a concrete way of expressing it yet. That only added to the frustration. "Anything!"

"Rory, do you think the Pierces would mind if we visited this weekend?" Kurt asked, bending over to better see the Irish student sitting across the room.

Artie spoke before Rory could respond. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Why not?" That was Blaine's subtle way of defending his boyfriend.

"If she's as beaten up as Rory said… well we all know how vain Santana is, don't you think she'd hate for us to see her face while it's a mess?"

Artie couldn't have been more tactless. "You're just bitter about Brittany choosing _her_ over _you_." The words were out of Quinn's mouth at a volume louder and with more venom than she'd originally intended.

Hearing this, Artie replied irritably, "I'm over that! I'm just saying that her self-image might be something worth thinking about."

"She did get that boob job after all." Puck snickered.

"And like I said before, I think she takes her insecurities out on us." Rachel said.

"Is that really what's important to you guys right now?" Quinn felt her temper rising, the more she was hearing. "You really think she'll be more worried about _how_ _she_ _looks_ than how many real friends she has? Fine, she's insensitive sometimes-"

"A lot of times." Artie interrupted.

Ignoring him, Quinn continued, raising her voice, "But that doesn't mean we should just abandon her-"

"Guys, calm down. This is getting out of hand." Mr. Schue looked directly at Quinn and said, "Quinn, none of us are talking about abandoning Santana. It's nothing like that, okay?"

Feeling even more frustrated, Quinn folded her arms across her chest and gave him a small, reluctant nod. But aside from that, she gritted her teeth and didn't say anything else.

Regardless, Mr. Schue continued, "And like I said, I do think we should support Santana. Even if she's not a member of New Directions anymore, she's still part of our Glee family." Fully agreeing with this, Quinn nodded. She noticed that most of the other members nodded, too. "But I don't think going to the Pierce house is the best idea."

"But-" Quinn started.

"I _do_, however, have something _else_ in mind."

* * *

><p>"Why don't you hate me for…" Santana tried to verbally sum up several concepts such as '<em>being a lesbian'<em>, '_messing with your daughter_' and '_taking up space'_, among others. But finding no other way to put it all together, she just ended the question with, "…y'know…" Her voice was made up of unbelievably unsteady words mingled with shaky breaths.

Mrs. Pierce just continued to hold Santana in a firm way that was both comforting and protective. Never, not for one second did she ever recoil. "Because I know you love my daughter."

"Doesn't that bother you?" Santana asked, bitterly remembering her own parents' reactions.

"Well of course knowing the fact that one day I won't see my baby as often anymore bothers me." Mrs. Pierce's answer initially didn't make sense, and Santana nearly interrupted her with a question. "Every parent equally dreads and looks forward to the day their child gets married." This last part was accompanied by a smile and a slight laugh.

"I-I… wh-" _That_ made even less sense. The bubbly joy clashed with the confusion, collided with the aches and finally detonated with blasts of anxiety. Santana wondered if Mrs. Pierce was really assuming what Santana thought she was. Or was she joking? Or did she mean something else?

Still, the thought of Brittany in a white dress, with a ring on her finger filled Santana with joy. In a situation like that, Brittany would be Santana's, and no one else would be able to take her away.

Then she imagined the crowds of people that would parade around their house. Wave upon wave of them. Their yells of disgust and hatred would fill the air, drowning out everything else. Signs expressing how they and their religion felt about what wasn't their business would be brandished by thousands upon thousands of hands. In the frontlines, leading the mob would be the tall, broad figure of her father.

Mrs. Pierce seemed to notice Santana's reaction, doubt flashing in her blue eyes. For a moment, she hesitated, as if to reevaluate what she was saying and its effect on who she was speaking to. Santana thought about saying something, but she didn't know what.

Blinking, Mrs. Pierce decided to continue speaking. "Look… I could never hate you for what you have with Brittany. I know that you see her as she is and that you bring out the best in her. That handicapped boy… Archie?"

"Artie." Santana corrected, inwardly cringing at the memory. Seeing him with Brittany last year had been the worst feeling in the world. It had taken Santana numerous underhanded tactics to break them apart, but each try seemed to only bring them even closer together. Until she had felt like there was no other option but to resort to manipulating Brittany into cheating on him. As much as she tried to hide it under her tough, couldn't-care-less attitude, Santana _did_ feel guilty about it. If she wasn't so proud and so afraid of how awkward the experience would be, she would have considered apologizing to him. Now seemed just too late though.

"Artie." Mrs. Pierce accepted the correction. "He was a decent boy. But I could see that he didn't quite see Brittany as an equal. There was a sort of… patronizing way to how he treated her."

"Treated her like a child." Santana recalled the whole magic comb crap.

She got a nod of agreement from Mrs. Pierce. "And the other boys she would bring home before… they seemed to only show interest in her appearance." That thought sickened Santana to her stomach.

"You, Santana, you know there's more to Brittany than her beautiful face and athletic body." The way those eyes were looking at her made Santana feel like Mrs. Pierce could see straight into her confused and aching heart. Through the turmoil of other emotions, she could see what Santana felt for Brittany.. "You know there's more to her than her obsession with Disney movies and cats. You see more than just the childlike personality that everyone else seems to only ever see. You understand that while she sometimes misses out on the obvious, she sees a lot of things that everyone else overlooks, with this unique, amazing insight and perception."

With a smile and a laugh, Mrs. Pierce added, "Besides, her grades are a lot higher whenever you study with her. You're doing something right."

* * *

><p>Excited energy filled the hallways of the school as teenagers rushed out of their classrooms, whooping and celebrating the end of the day, thrilled and excited for the weekend. In contrast, the tall blond was walking with a noticeable slump to her shoulders. Spotting her was easy enough. Getting to her through the crowd, <em>that<em> was the challenge.

"Britt!" Brittany looked over her shoulder upon hearing her name, stopping when she saw Quinn running over.

Quinn slowed to a stop in front of Brittany, glad that the taller girl had waited for her to catch up. "Hi-" she paused to catch her breath. The forlorn mood Brittany had was so obvious, it seemed to be projecting a dark aura around her. It was _so_ different from the bubbly energy that Brittany was known for and Quinn was used to seeing. It was just like seeing resilient Santana breaking down. "Uh… How are you?" Quinn asked uncertainly.

Brittany shrugged. "Worried about Santana…"

Not for the first time, Quinn felt guilty for being so wrapped up in Beth and acting out that she'd neglected her friendship with the two for the most part of the school year. She was going to make it up to them. Trying to be here for them now… this was a start. "How is she?"

The worry and discomfort was clear on Brittany's face as her eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip. "I was texting Mom earlier today. She said Santana didn't want to go to the hospital to have her wounds checked on by real doctors." _Hospital?_ Were Santana's injuries that bad? "But mom thinks that it's not a big deal for now since most of Santana's wounds look like they'll get better on their own." Well that was a relief to hear.

Brittany looked anything but relieved though. Instead, she continued with even more distress in her voice, "Mom said Santana's been lying in bed the whole day and she hasn't eaten _anything_." Now_ that_ didn't sound good. Quinn placed a hand on Brittany's shoulder in an effort to comfort her.

Together, they began walking down the corridor, staying to the side and trying to avoid the rushing crowd. "Maybe she just needs some time…" Quinn found her own attempt to reassure Brittany pathetic. "…and she'll come around eventually…?" The uncertainty she felt managed to find its way into her tone, turning what should have been an encouraging statement into something that sounded more like an uneasy question.

Brittany shrugged. "I hope so…"

Lost for what else to say, Quinn thought of bringing up the hallway incident. "I heard about what happened… with Finn…" She glanced downwards. It wasn't hard to miss the purple knuckles that stood out against the paleness of Brittany's skin. Inwardly, Quinn shuddered, imagining how much it must hurt.

"Troubletones also heard about it." Brittany said, lightly stroking the bruised and slightly swollen skin. "Mercedes asked if she could come over and visit Santana. Sugar… Sugar hugged me and started crying and insisting that it would get better."

"_Sugar_?" Quinn raised her eyebrow and watched as Brittany responded with a nod. _Sugar_ _Motta?_ The image of the spoiled, snooty rich girl suddenly breaking down and hugging Brittany was… _strange_.

Then again, the Troubletones had probably forged some sort of bond between its members… They might have become their own sort of family, just like what New Directions (sometimes) had. And maybe being around tough, no-nonsense people like Santana and Mercedes had humbled Sugar Motta. Maybe.

"Yeah…" Brittany shook her head, looking like she couldn't quite believe it either. "It was weird but… sweet. I think."

Deciding that it was odd but not important enough to dwell on, Quinn changed the topic. There was something else she wanted to talk about and now that they were in a relatively deserted corridor, Quinn thought it was okay to stop walking. Brittany stopped too.

Quinn turned to face her. "Britt… um... I was wondering…" She moved her weight from one foot to the other. The strong desire to support a friend in need was persistent, and Quinn felt that she should do more than just participate in New Directions' plan. "Could… could I come over tomorrow?"

"I dunno…" Brittany's doubtful answer was discouraging. Quinn hoped it wasn't because her previous… _phase_ had eroded their friendship. Always good at picking up on other people's feelings, Brittany noticed Quinn's reaction and hastily added, "I would _love_ for you to come over, really, I would."

_But?_ Quinn waited to hear the rest, dreading that it might have something to do with Santana being angry with her for intruding in the choir room yesterday. "But I'll have to check with my parents first, and with Santana, if she's okay with seeing anyone…"

Quinn nodded, "Alright... I understand." The quick smile Brittany gave her was so obviously forced, it was painful to watch. Unable to restrain herself, Quinn threw her arms around Brittany in an embrace. "Things are going to be okay, Britt."

"That's _exactly_ what I told Santana," Brittany whispered, the remorse obvious in her voice as she hugged Quinn back with unsteady, trembling hands. "I just kept telling her that… over and over and over again… and… and now… now..." The taller girl bent over, pressing her head against Quinn's shoulder. "I was _so, so very_ _wrong_."

Seeing Brittany like this… hearing what she was saying… it was excruciating. Quinn rubbed Brittany's back and opened her mouth to say something, anything that might ease the guilt that must be tearing Brittany apart from the inside out.

Before she could say anything though, Brittany overtook her. "Now, I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I don't know if she'll believe me now if I try to say the same thing. If I was wrong the last time, what if I'm wrong again? What if it became not okay because I said it would be okay?" Brittany pulled away from Quinn and slammed the palm of her uninjured hand against the nearest locker.

Alarmed, Quinn rushed to Brittany's side and took hold of both of her wrists. Trying to be forceful enough that Brittany wouldn't resist, but gentle enough that she wasn't being threatening, Quinn steered her away from the locker. At first, Brittany seemed reluctant, but eventually, she gave in and let Quinn guide her to the end of the hallway. There, they sat down and leaned their backs against the wall.

"I'm _so_ confused, Quinn." Brittany whined, bringing her hands to her face once Quinn released her wrists. "And _guilty_ and _worried_ and _sad_ and… a lot of other _feelings_." Brittany moved her hands from her face to her hair, taking handfuls of the blond strands.

Quinn tensed, ready to interfere if Brittany started trying to yank out her own scalp. "Britt, you haven't done anything wrong." Knowing that any hint of uncertainty would do more harm than good, Quinn spoke firmly. Recalling Rory's narration of last night's events, as well as putting together the rest of the information she'd gathered, Quinn used that to remind Brittany of the good she'd done. "You picked her up after her family _abandoned_ her. You brought her to a place where she could be _safe_ and _loved_."

_'It's about accepting the fact that _you don't matter anymore_. That your feelings and that your life and that your _body_, they all come _second_. To making sure that the child is _happy_ and _safe_.'_

Suddenly, Ms. Corcoran's words came to her mind. It was a surprising blow that nearly shoved Quinn completely off course. Thoughts of Beth and whether or not Quinn deserved her tried to take over and wipe away Brittany and Santana.

But Quinn knew that now wasn't the time to dwell on Beth.

Recovering quickly, she continued speaking, hoping that Brittany hadn't noticed the pause. "Because of you, Santana is in a place where she won't be judged or hurt. You're the person who's putting her first and taking care of her. You did what her family didn't or _wouldn't_ do." Why did it still feel like Ms. Corcoran was part of this somehow? Quinn pushed that thought away and moved closer to Brittany, making sure that the other girl would meet her eyes. "Britt, you've treated Santana like family more than her biological family has."

Brittany didn't say anything, but Quinn had a feeling that what she was saying was working.

"Brittany, der y'are! I been lookin' everywhur!" Rory interrupted, running over to them. "Yur m'ride home, and I wus worried y'might've forgotten and luft me behind. But den I saw yur car still parked and-" He seemed to realize that he'd interrupted something because he trailed off, shrinking under the look Quinn gave him.

"Sorry, Rory," Brittany apologized and stood up. Quinn followed, still feeling frustrated until Brittany gave her a quick hug and said, "Thanks, Quinn. And you're right. We're like Santana's family now."

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> As usual, this story begged me to make it longer, compelling me to further touch on and develop some things. I have one last arc that I'll touch on in chapter six, and I think that will be the final chapter. (but at the rate this thing's going, who knows?) While I do enjoy writing this, and I'm loving receiving reviews, I have my doubts about how often I'll be able to update this if it gets any longer, with college taking up a lot of time and creativity and all.

Still, reviews and other expressions of fondness for this will keep things going if it comes to that. :)

Additionally, while we're talking about potential ideas, does anyone want me to touch on the election and include it here? (since around this time, voting should take place soon-ish.) And besides that, anything else? (no promises though xD)

And I'm sorry, I couldn't resist inserting a very minor, not-really-significant, somewhat subtle hint of Sugar from the Future because the idea amuses me so. xD


	6. Chapter 6

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: In this chapter, I tried my hand at a bit of Klaine. Nothing too huge, it doesn't last that long if you're anti-Klaine, don't worry. :P

Also, I'd like to take a quick moment to thank **Miched8** for reviewing three out of five times. :D And **vicky123wow**, **die**.**trying**, and **EvenInTheDark** for reviewing twice. :D And the fifteen or so other people who also took the time to review. Thank you very much, y'all. I appreciate it. :D

This story has grown from a two-three chapter quickie of Santana angst, Brittana fluff and Unholy Trinity friendship to something more. It's been a fun challenge to play with character emotions and relationships and I wound up also touching on other things like Quinn's internal conflicts, New Directions' opinions, conflicts among the characters that the show never really addressed... among others. So even if I'm worried and scared of how fast this is growing against my initial will and how I might struggle to balance this and college life... I'm kind of glad that I still have this going. :)

Now on to chapter six. (which turned out ridiculously long and the stuff that was supposed to happen in this chapter will end up having to go to the next) I was supposed to put this up yesterday, but I was too sleepy to proofread it properly, so I decided to put off uploading it.

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

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><p>Preparing herself for the worst, Brittany took a deep breath, opened the front door and walked into the Pierce house. Behind her, Rory followed, for once not chattering away in his thick accent about how similar or dissimilar their countries were. Instead, he went straight to the guest room that he'd been given.<p>

"Mom?" Brittany called, heading for the kitchen and hoping that she'd find her mother and Santana there. Disappointed to see that it wasn't so, she decided to go upstairs and check if they were in her room.

Just as Brittany was reaching for the doorknob with her uninjured hand, it suddenly swung open inwards.

Brittany recoiled in shock. Likewise, Mom jumped back.

"Brittany!" Mom gasped before composing herself and smiling, "Welcome home! How was school?"

Too occupied with worry for Santana as well as not feeling comfortable discussing the day's events, Brittany kept her hand hidden from view and answered with an evasive, "Fine!" To make it more convincing, Brittany added a smile she hoped look genuine enough.

Barely checking to see if her mother believed her, Brittany went around her, straight for Santana.

The sight nearly made Brittany freeze in place. Her heart skipped a beat. Santana's eye looked even worse than when Brittany had last seen it under the dim light of this morning before school. The raw, bruised skin was a lot more noticeable now- dark purple and swollen around the eye, while patches of maroon and sienna reached for the temple and cheekbone.

Brittany swallowed, willing her stomach to stop churning. Putting on a smile, she spoke with a high, cheerful voice. "Hi, San!" She didn't know how long she had gaped, or how noticeable the waver in her step had been, but she _did_ know that the last thing Santana needed right now was any negative reaction to her appearance. Brittany just hoped that Santana hadn't noticed.

Santana tilted her head to one side and hesitated for a moment before replying. "Hey, Britt!" The words were also deceptively lively, accompanied by a smile, but Brittany didn't miss the way Santana avoided eye contact. She was alternating between looking down at the bed and a point to the side of Brittany's head.

"You girls hang around here, I'll just reheat this meatloaf." Mom grabbed the plate on the bedside table. Passing Brittany, she whispered, just low enough that Santana probably wouldn't hear, "Maybe you'll be able to get her to eat." After that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

"San…" Brittany was cautious as she moved towards the bed and sat near Santana. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Britt." Santana continued to look beside and over Brittany, successfully evading eye contact. It was one of those little things that Brittany knew Santana did during uncomfortable situations. "Your mom's been really nice to me today."

Santana's evasiveness was starting to worry Brittany, and she was torn between pressing for a sincere answer and respectfully waiting for Santana to open up on her own terms. "She said you've been in bed all day…" Brittany paused, weighing her options.

On one hand, she could make small talk about what academic things she'd learned in school or what song the Troubletones sang today. It would be a low-pressure conversation, and it might eventually coax Santana out of her shell. On the other hand, she could ask Santana about how she felt physically. It would be a sincere question because Brittany genuinely worried about Santana's physical health as much as her emotional health. It was also relatively low-pressure because Santana wouldn't have to talk about feelings if she didn't want to. It did, however involve Santana admitting a little vulnerability.

Quickly making a decision to avoid leaving Santana hanging, Brittany asked, "How's your leg? Like… can you walk…?"

Santana moved her leg experimentally. When she bent her knee, the quickest flash of pain appeared on her face. It had come and gone so fast, Brittany thought she might have missed it if she'd blinked. Santana's expression hardened into a stoic mask as she replied, "I've made it to the bathroom a couple of times. I can walk… more or less."

Why was she being so guarded? Brittany hated feeling so shut out. Hadn't they been over this already? "That's good." It was a pathetic attempt to sound happy for Santana. Brittany heard her own voice come out flat and hollow.

"It wouldn't even be a problem if I hadn't been so stupid." There was more sincerity in Santana's words now. It wasn't positive… it was bitter, in fact. But still, Brittany perked up at what seemed like a hint of Santana opening up.

"You weren't-"

"I _was_." Santana didn't give her a chance to say much, interrupting with a harsher tone. But still, she kept her eyes pointing downwards, at the bed. "This damn knee wasn't… wasn't _his_ fault or _her_ fault." Brittany assumed Santana was referring to Mr. and Mrs. Lopez. "It was _my_ _own_."

Brittany opened her mouth to speak, but again, Santana didn't give her the chance. "When I had all my stuff with me, I tried asking again… I tried just _one_ _more_ _time_." Imagining Santana with her Cheerios bag slung over her shoulder, pleading with her parents… it was painful to think about how that must have felt. "I was stupid to think it'd work. _Stupid!"_

"_He_ came at me again, yelling about how wrong I was…" Instead of the defeated, shaky voice Santana had used yesterday, this narration was being told in a harsh, bitter… almost angry voice. "It scared the fuck out of me, so I ran. And I could hear _him_ chasing me off the porch." Brittany wanted nothing more than to hug Santana, but something about her behavior gave off warning signals that it might not be the best idea right now.

"And when I was a couple of blocks away, I looked back." Santana continued, louder, harsher. "Like a clumsy _idiot_ I fell over and turned my knee into _this_!" She angrily gestured towards her bandaged knee. "I mean who does that? I haven't tripped like that since I was like _twelve_! What's up with _that_?"

"But it's not like that was your fault!" Brittany objected, not liking where Santana was going with this. The tension in the room was scaring her, and not knowing why Santana seemed to be taking her anger out on Brittany was frustrating and distressing.

"Why did you look at me like that?" This time, with a raised voice and a suddenly changed topic, Santana finally did meet Brittany's eyes.

"Like what?" It was a poor attempt at denying the accusation that Santana seemed to be throwing at her.

"Like I'm _disgusting_? Like something was wrong with me? Or like I shouldn't be here. Or like it bothered you to look at me…" Santana's voice gradually got softer before she suddenly yelled out, flailing her arms. "_I_ _don't_ _know!"_

Brittany flinched at the yell, too taken aback to properly respond until her defense mechanism kicked in and she blurted out without thinking, "I saw Lord Tubbington behind you waxing his legs."

"Britt… _Why?"_ Now, Santana was whispering, leaning forward. It was then that Brittany realized that her reaction, however much she had tried to conceal it, had not gone by unnoticed. Santana didn't miss it, and it had really affected her. The look of pain in her face was clear now, with no more masks or deflections to hide behind.

"I'm sorry, San…" Brittany apologized, putting all the guilt she felt into those two words.

"What did I do?" The guarded Santana that had tried to mask pain with hostility was gone now, leaving behind the hurt girl that needed reassurance.

"Nothing." Brittany answered, moving closer to Santana and touching her face. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Why did you look like you didn't wanna be near me?"

Knowing that given Santana's currently fragile state, she had to tread carefully, Brittany tried her best to be honest and comforting without being potentially offensive. "It's nothing like that, San. It has nothing to do with anything being wrong with you." First, she reinforced the fact that Santana was innocent of it all, since that's what seemed to bother her the most. "I love you, Santana."

That coaxed Santana's lips into a small smile.

Encouraged by the positive effect, Brittany continued, "And because of that… I felt… _hurt_. Hurt to see your eye and knee like that." She paused, to think of how to put together what she wanted to say next as well as giving Santana a chance to verbalize anything else that might be troubling her mind.

Santana didn't say anything, but she didn't break eye contact. Brittany continued, "I was alarmed and worried, San… And if it looked like I didn't want to be near you or I was disgusted or whatever… I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't mean to look that way…"

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, Britt…"

Brittany smiled to reassure Santana. "Don't worry about it, Sanny."

At first, Santana's eyes looked away and she didn't say anything. She didn't move away though, seeming to be content with her face in Brittany's hands and their foreheads almost touching. After a while, Brittany was beginning to consider letting go and assuming that Santana needed space since she looked so deep in thought.

Santana's dark eyes suddenly lit up and locked on Brittany's. "Is this the part where we kiss?" She asked cheekily.

Glad to see this side of Santana resurfacing, Brittany smiled and leaned closer until their noses touched. "Maybe."

In response, Santana brought her arms up and wrapped them around Brittany's neck, pulling her closer and finally eliminating the distance between their lips. The moment brought them to a place where no one would ever be there to hurt or judge- a sanctuary where it was just the two of them.

It shattered into a million jagged pieces when Santana's hand brushed against Brittany's. The light contact had put just enough pressure on the sensitive skin that Brittany drew back with a gasp of pain, bringing her hand close to her chest.

"Oh my god, what happened!" Santana's voice rose up several pitches while her eyes, both of them, widened into large circles.

"I-it's nothing!" Brittany tried to downplay the incident while her knuckles throbbed excruciatingly. She gritted her teeth, willing the pain to go away.

"What-" Santana's eyes narrowed as she moved towards Brittany. "Britt, what's wrong? What happened to your hand? Did someone cause this? Who did it to you?" It had started with high-pitched worry, then lowered into a more menacing sound that didn't bother to veil the threat. Santana was getting ready to avenge Brittany, with tooth, nail and vicious, vicious words.

As sweet as the thought was, and as much as she still felt angry with Finn, Brittany didn't want to blow the experience out of proportion. The last thing she wanted was even more conflict. "Lord Tubbington's evil twin brother stepped on it."

Santana raised the eyebrow over her uninjured eye. "Britt…"

There was no getting around it now. Brittany accepted her fate and decided to come clean. Besides, she hated lying to Santana or hiding things from her unless they were Christmas gifts or birthday gifts. "I… I got mad at Finn in the hallway and…" Admitting that she'd been so angry and come so close to committing physical harm made Brittany uncomfortable. Even with her painful hand as proof, she still couldn't quite believe what had happened. That it _really_, _actually_ _happened_.

"And?" Santana pressed. Already, she looked like she was planning out various battle tactics for her latest revenge scheme. It was as unnerving as it was touching.

"I… I tried to punch him but I couldn't so I didn't and I hit the locker instead." Brittany blurted it out in a rush, wanting to get this done and over with as quickly as possible, as soon as possible.

"I'll get him for that!" Santana vowed, "When I see Shrek on Monday, I'm-"

"Santana, please don't…" Brittany tried pleading with her.

"I'm going to make him regret it, Britt! When I'm done with him, he'll be dragging his blubbery pink corpse home and leaving a trail of tears down the hallw-"

"Santana, no!" Speaking more forcefully, Brittany touched Santana's arm in an effort to get her full attention. The anger was still clearly readable on her face, but at least she was quiet now and looked ready to listen. Reluctant, yes, but ready, nevertheless. "Look… I don't think beating Finn up will fix anything." Knowing full well how Santana's mind works, Brittany hastily added, "And insulting him won't work either."

"Well how else can we get through to his thick skull?" Santana asked, still hostile, still ready for a fight.

"I don't know yet…" Brittany admitted. "But I really think that fighting him won't make it any better. It's not going to make him see that what he did was wrong and it's not going to make him give you a sincere apology."

"_Apology?_ Why would I want an apology from him?" Santana was obviously uncomfortable, despite the harsh edge to her voice she maintained. If she was going back to avoiding eye contact, that was a sure enough signal that she wasn't at ease and she was trying to hide behind her walls. "I don't care to hear whatever comes out of his drooling chops." Brittany knew better than to simply believe her words without question. There was more to it than that. There was always more to Santana than that.

"Okay…" Brittany considered pushing Santana, but thought better of it. That particular side to the topic was too loaded, and it could too easily branch out to things Santana might not feel ready to talk about. Particularly her parents. "Still… don't blame Finn so much for my hand… please?"

"Uhh…" Santana used her fingers to brush stray stands of hair away from her face.

"Please, Sanny?" Brittany pouted, then added in a singsong voice. "I'll treat you to Starbuuuucks."

"Fine, I'll try." Santana kept her voice neutral, but her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Happy that Santana was willing to at least try to control her hostility towards Finn, and aware of the fact that it was a relatively big step for someone like Santana, Brittany gratefully gave her girlfriend a quick kiss. "Thanks, San."

On cue, the door opened and Mom entered, "I prepared a little something and it's best to go down and get it while it's hot!"

* * *

><p>"Blaine, do you think I'm being too hard on him?" Blaine was sprawled on Kurt's bed, arms behind his head. Kurt was pacing the room, trying to make sense of the anger and guilt that kept going head to head in his mind. The past two days had severely strained his relationship with Finn. This would be the second night where neither of them spoke a word to each other and kept a cold silence hanging over the dinner table. If this kept up, their parents would surely say something about it soon.<p>

"Well…" Blaine didn't answer right away, pausing to think about the matter.

This only heightened Kurt's anxiety. Before long, he was rambling. "I mean it's _Santana_ we're talking about. She and Finn never really get along. She must've tried sabotaging his relationships at least a few times. And there's the way she treats a lot of us, it's like she finds all the reasons to throw insults at us from every corner. Then what she did to Rory- that was really _foul_. So why am I being so defensive about her? This Santana thing is making me hate Finn and I'm pretty sure it's making him hate me too. Is she even really _worth_ it?" The long stream of verbalized thoughts left Kurt out of breath. He inhaled before continuing.

"Kurt-"

"But I still think Santana should have had a choice in coming out. And I don't know, maybe her whole insulting everyone is just her way of coping. It's like Karofsky all over again, but probably more on a verbal than physical level. Though I'm not saying that either of them were right in their methods of dealing with their sexualities. But-"

"Kurt, _breathe_." Blaine put a stop to Kurt's pacing by taking hold of his hand and pulling him over until their chests were barely an inch apart, their faces almost touching. "Calm down for a bit, okay?"

"I'm calm." Kurt's shrill voice gave away that it was a lie.

Raising one dark eyebrow, Blaine smiled lopsidedly. "Calm?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm not."

"Just take a deep breath. C'mon, do it with me." Together, they inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. This went on for a minute or so until Kurt let himself relax and just enjoy the fact that their breaths were so in sync, and that every time they inhaled, their chests would bump slightly against each other. He could feel it through his vest and Blaine's sweater.

"Okay, I'm calm now." Kurt didn't hold back a smile.

Blaine grinned before giving him a kiss that ended too soon.

Still holding Kurt's hands, Blaine brought them to the bed, where they sat next to each other, shoulders touching. "I think… that they're both wrong." Blaine finally started answering Kurt's initial question. "But what Finn did is the lowest blow anyone could ever dish out. And the way you're going about it… you're just being your passionate self."

"Which is a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Well I love it about you." Blaine said with blunt honesty.

* * *

><p>The first picture was of a pregnant young girl wearing a genuinely happy smile for the first time in a long time. Next to her was a chubby girl, grinning broadly with one arm around the other girl's shoulders. It showed friendship blossoming in the unlikeliest of places. It showed understanding and sensitivity and… the kind of serene happiness that can only come from such a bond developed during a dark time.<p>

The second picture showed the same pregnant girl, but not the same companion. Instead, there were two other girls, on either side of her. The red and white uniforms greatly contrasted with the maternity clothes. But in that moment… they complimented, too. They showed that despite the rivalries of high school that could rock friendships to their very core… there was still _something_ there…

The third picture was more recent. It showed a girl both the same and different. It was still the same face, the same nose, the same mouth. But something was… off. There was something almost sinister hidden in the green depths of her eyes. And just behind that, hiding behind it was desperation. In her arms was the most beautiful, innocent being in the world.

Why was she doing this to herself? Quinn searched herself for an answer as to why she was allowing herself to dwell on the memories, the loss and the questions. Unfortunately, she couldn't find any answer other than a theory that maybe she was _losing_ _her mind_.

Running her fingers through her hair, Quinn stood up and turned away from the monitor. She needed air. The questions were drowning her. _Do I really deserve Beth? Am I trying to steal her from Ms. Corcoran for the right reasons? Will Beth really end up with me if Ms. Corcoran loses her? What if… what if Beth is really better off being raised by Shelby Corcoran than Quinn Fabray?_

Quinn needed something, _anything_ to escape this.

As if her prayers were being answered, her phone started ringing. Desperate and excited, Quinn grabbed for it and answered, "Hello?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Quinn!" Brittany called out cheerfully. "I talked to Santana and my parents about you coming over, and…" She glanced over her shoulder at Santana and Rory, who were still sitting across each other in the dining room. Mom, Dad and her sister had already gone to their rooms. Brittany frowned, noticing the tension between the two.<p>

"So what'd they say?"

Brittany blinked, realizing she'd left Quinn hanging. "Oh! They said yes!"

"Really? That's great!"

Something about Quinn's tone was off. There had been a slight waver to it before it suddenly rose in energy. Behind her, she heard Santana saying something in an unmistakably hostile tone. Brittany made a mental note to check on the two as soon as the call was over. "Quinn, are you okay?"

"I hear my mom calling me. Sorry, Britt, I have to go. See you tomorrow! Bye!" It was said in such a rush, Brittany barely got to say her own goodbye before Quinn ended the call abruptly.

It was odd behavior. But then again… with the way Quinn had been all year, it was difficult at this point to gauge what was normal Quinn behavior and what was unusual Quinn behavior. Brittany couldn't be sure, but she also couldn't shake off the feeling that Quinn was more bothered by something than she was letting on. The question was _what_. Unfortunately, there would be no answer for it tonight.

And now for the matter at hand. "What's up, you two?" Brittany said brightly, leaning against the head of the table, effectively placing herself more or less in between the two.

"Nuthin'!" Rory answered evasively, shaking his head side to side.

"It was _something_ alright." Santana's answer aggressively contradicted Rory's.

"Aw, dawn't be a rat now, please." Rory's stance switched from shifty and defensive to desperate and pleading.

"Like Jerry or Stuart?" Brittany asked. "Or Scabbers?"

Taking offense, Santana retorted in the voice she used when she was challenging someone who dared to speak wrongly to her. "_What_ did you just call me?"

"Rat." Rory answered, at first in the same distressed tone, before he switched to something that sounded more like frustration. "No' a real rat! Argh, I meant somewun dat tells on somewun else."

"Oh, so now you're dissing me just because I'm not from the land of green pixies and I don't understand your stupid-"

"Tell me what?" Brittany calmly interrupted Santana before the insults escalated further.

"Nuthin'!" Rory repeated, once again reverting to the uncomfortable and anxious.

"That he's still into you." Santana folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against her chair. "Apparently, he can't quite get it through his chemical-mountain of hair and thick snot-green skull that you're already taken."

Brittany's initial reaction was the urge to wrap her arms around Santana and reassure her that she was still hers and proudly so. But the distraught look on Rory's face made her feel guilty and uncomfortable. She didn't want to say anything that would bring his hopes up only to bash them down. But she also didn't want him to feel anymore hurt and anxious than he already obviously was.

"Rory…" She was just starting on her first attempt to calm the situation until Rory exploded.

"Fine! I get it!" Rory practically jumped to his feet, "Mank is whut I am. I'm a mog and I was a right gowl t'tink I could win ya over. Ya got a grand bit o' kit and when ya told me I could have yur pot o' gold, I thought I'd a chance. Y'must've had a real craik leadin' me on!" The sudden outburst of anger was so unanticipated, Brittany had to take a step back. This side of Rory was frightening, and she never knew he had it in him.

"You shut your potato hole and leave my girl alone!" Santana was on her feet, readily leaping to her girlfriend's defense. "Go back to frolicking in fields and scrubbing clover-leaf gel products into your hair, the munchkins miss you. You're better off there because _no one_ wants you here."

"Leave my family and my home out o' dis!" Rory snapped.

"Snow White has more chemistry with Grumpy than she does with the Prince." Brittany blurted out.

At least that got their attention. She saw both of them turn to look at her and slowly deflate. This slight confusion probably wouldn't last long, so Brittany didn't waste time and immediately took advantage of the pause, "Santana," She made sure to look straight at her girl. This was a message she'd given time and time again, because it was something Santana needed most when she felt vulnerable. And Brittany knew that under all that aggression, Santana was just scared. "I love _you_."

For the briefest of moments, Santana let her guard down, allowed her eyes to light up. But then they darted towards Rory, and she raised the walls, closed the gates and barred the doors all over again. Unfazed, Brittany took a step forward, still keeping her gaze locked on Santana. "I'm _yours_, Santana. Nothing, _nothing_ will ever change that."

Brittany knew that however positively this may affect Santana, it might be negatively affecting Rory just as much. Even if Santana was the priority and would _always_ be the priority, Rory still was a person with feelings. So once Santana looked like she was starting to relax, Brittany immediately turned to Rory.

"Rory, I'm _really_ sorry, but you'll have to be patient with us." She spoke softly, trying as much as possible not to sound threatening or insulting. "I barely understood any of the things you said, and I would really appreciate it if you said it again, calmly."

Rory still looked frustrated, but nevertheless, he listened to her and did what she asked. "I wus sayin' dat I know I'm a mog… er… an unattractive person. An' I wus sayin' dat I was thinkin' you had a nice body an' when y'told me I could have y'pot o' gold, I'd a chance with gettin' with you." The boy paused, shifting uncomfortably. Gone was the anger that had overwhelmed him so unexpectedly. Now, all Brittany saw was someone younger than herself, lonely and hurt. "And I wus a fool. And… and y'must've had a grand time leadin' me on…"

Santana looked ready to start raising her weapons again. With a light touch on her arm, Brittany silently warned her not to before she addressed Rory herself. "Look… Rory, you're not ugly or unattractive or whatever, okay?" Brittany resented Rory for trying to manipulate her, for treating her like she was stupid, she did. But she also knew that leading him on and using him wasn't exactly on her list of good deeds this year, either. "And… I'm sorry."

The apology seemed like something Rory hadn't expected, because he looked so taken aback. He glanced from one girl to the other, as if trying to figure out if there was some kind of catch. When it seemed to him like no one was going to say '_haha_, _got_ _you!_' anytime soon, Rory said, "I'm… I'm…" The boy visibly swallowed, as if getting the words out was something difficult for him. "I'm sorry fer tryin' to get between d'two of ya." This, he said directly to Santana. Then he added, looking at Brittany, "An' I'm sorry fer loosin' m'temper."

Clearly, it was something Santana had not expected at all. For what felt like a minute or two, she just stared at Rory with a look of unmasked shock. Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion and practically mirrored Rory's previous search for a catch, a trap, an ambush. Rory was no longer attacking, no longer on the offensive or fighting with the desperation of someone cornered. He was just laying himself bare with an apology of his own. Brittany hoped that Santana could see that.

"I… uh…" Santana was tensing up, her arms crossed over her chest now looked more like she was hugging herself than anything else. Avoiding making eye contact with anyone, she would look from the floor to the cupboard to the table, repeating the cycle a few times. "I'm sorry about… y'know… the mean stuff I said to you." The apology was mumbled and barely audible, and she barely looked at who she was speaking to, but Brittany knew how big of a step this was. She knew that before this, Santana hated Rory. Before this, she would have never considered apologizing for her vicious words. Before this, she held more anger towards Rory than she did for Artie. Before this, she would have had to be convinced and talked into being nice.

Proud of Santana, Brittany couldn't contain her excitement. She threw herself at her girlfriend, wrapping her up in an embrace and planting a kiss on her cheek. The action called forth the most adorably dopey grin Brittany had ever seen on Santana's face.

Rory turned his head away uncomfortably. Brittany smiled at him and gestured for him to join. "Come on, group hug!"

"Nooo." Santana shook her head, but the grin never left her face.

"Nuh-uh." Rory hung back, hands in his pockets.

"Come on, you two. We're going to hug and make up like you're a good little unicorn and you're a good little leprechaun and I'm an awesome bicorn." Keeping one arm around Santana, Brittany guided her over to Rory, who cast a wary glance at Santana before finally joining in the hug.

"You can only hug my bicorn when I'm in the same room and supervising, okay, leprechaun?"

"Er… okay." Rory couldn't seem to tell that Santana was half-joking.

"We're like a big happy family." Brittany tried to ease any tension that might come from the misunderstanding.

"We're the moms of the house and you're the leprechaun that hangs out in our garden." Santana was willing to play along, more or less. "And Puck's the guard dog who barks at the stray males, molests the cat across the street and keeps getting the neighbor's dogs pregnant."

"And Rachel's d'crazy aunt dat comes t'visit every week." Rory went along with it.

"Mr. Schue is the old grandpa who won't shut up about the good ol' days and good ol' songs." Santana said.

"Mrs. Pillsbury would be the weird granny who cleans everything every time she visits." Brittany added. "And Shelby is the other granny and she comes over a lot and sings and tells stories and doggysits Puck when we're out of town."

"An' Sugar'd be yur daughter."

In sync, Brittany and Santana's smiles faded as they stared at Rory.

"No." Santana shook her head. "Just no."

* * *

><p>Later that night, as they snuggled under the covers, Santana closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. But try as she might, it remained ever elusive. She kept reaching out to it while dodging and avoiding painful thoughts of her parents and worries about the future. The chase was a draining, exhausting experience. Sleep continued to taunt her while the memories and thoughts were persistent in pursuing her.<p>

Santana tried to fight it back by remembering how just moments ago, Brittany had kissed her and said, 'I'm proud of you, Santana.' Followed by congratulations for being noble enough to apologize to Rory.

Admittedly, the experience had been a nerve-wracking one. She had seriously struggled to shake off the feeling that there was some sinister plot behind the apology and that it would unveil itself the moment she let her guard down.

Still… she, Santana Lopez, the cold-hearted bitch of Lima Heights, had managed to do it.

_The fist was coming back_. Without prior warning, Santana suddenly found herself being violently wrenched out of the safety and security of Brittany's arms and plunged into the Lopez dining room and reliving a nightmare.

* * *

><p>Brittany was in the middle of a dream involving Santana and herself having a race through the clouds, riding unicorns. They were laughing and having the time of their lives. Santana looked like she'd never been happier.<p>

The sound of sobbing started out soft and barely audible, until it grew louder, filling the skies and drowning out the laughter. The clouds darkened into ominous black fog until she could barely see her own hands. Beneath her, her unicorn let out a terrified neigh before vanishing completely.

Brittany had the sensation of helplessly falling through the air before heavily landing on her bed.

After momentarily glancing around disoriented and finding herself in the darkness of her bedroom in the middle of the night, Brittany became aware of a distressed Santana next to her. Gasps, sobs and incoherent words were coming from Santana as she constantly changed position and moved her arms.

Alarmed, Brittany sat up and put a hand on Santana's shoulder. "San? Honey, wake up." The touch seemed to only make things worse, because the movements grew more violent. Brittany dodged a swipe from Santana's arm before trying to shake her awake. "It's just a dream, Sanny! Wake up!" This time, she raised her voice, hoping it would get through to Santana. "You're dreaming! Wake up!"

Santana became more frantic, lashing out with her hands. "Get away!" One particularly strong blow caught Brittany by the chin, followed by a lucky one that bumped against her sore hand. "Britt, where are you? Quinn? Mr. Schue, help me!"

With a squeak of pain, Brittany retracted her hand and protectively kept it close to her body. Not even getting a chance to wait out the throbbing ache, Brittany was soon hit by another blow, this time one that connected with her nose and made her eyes water as she reeled back with a gasp.

Getting frustrated and desperate, Brittany lunged for Santana's flailing hands, ignoring slaps and the occasional kick until she had finally gotten hold of Santana's wrists. The strength in that petite body was almost surprising as she tried to wrestle her hands free. "No! Leave me alone! Get the hell away from me!"

"Santana! Stop it!" Brittany was trying to be gentle, and her painful knuckles weakened her right hand's grip. So despite her strength, controlling Santana proved to be a demanding task. It was a difficult competition of collected strength against frenzied force before Brittany finally overpowered Santana and pinned her hands down. "You're dreaming, Santana! _Wake up_!"

Santana continued to squirm and struggle, forcing Brittany to use her full weight to keep her pinned down and to keep her from hurting either of them. "SANTANA!"

The yell finally got through to Santana and her eyes flew open. For a moment, Brittany feared Santana would continue fighting. With the distress still in her eyes and pure terror written all over her face, Santana looked like she barely recognized the person she was seeing in front of her and where she was. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as her eyes darted around.

"Santana, it's okay now." Brittany tried to soothe her by speaking softly.

Finally, Santana's eyes focused on Brittany. Recognition dawned on them, but the panic was still there, and the breathing was still rapid and uneven. Brittany released Santana's wrists, and immediately, Santana sat up and grabbed hold of Brittany's shirt. Her movements were jerky and tense.

Seeing Santana so frightened called forth Brittany's protective side. She gently brought Santana closer until the girl was leaning against her. "Shhh, you're safe now." Brittany brought one arm around Santana while her other hand wiped the tearstained cheek, carefully avoiding the bruised skin. "You're safe."

"I saw them again." Santana whispered. "I saw it happen again."

"That's _never_ going to happen again." Holding her closer, Brittany made a promise that she intended to keep, through whatever means possible. "I'm going to make sure that nothing like that ever happens to you again."

"But it was different this time, though…" Brittany felt the cloth of her shirt stretch as Santana tightened her grip. "This time, it wasn't just… just the two of them." A shudder passed through Santana's body. "There were more people there, too… some of them strangers… most of them students from school… Mr. Schue just… _watched_. He didn't do anything… and the school jocks…" The words were broken up by sobs, but Santana wouldn't stop. "…they just k-kept laughing and yelling and pointing… and _hitting_."

Brittany kissed Santana's head and stroked her hair, trying to calm her. The slight tremble of her body that had started when she first began speaking had grown stronger. "I felt so… _alone_."

_It's going to be okay_. Brittany almost said it. Given what happened the last time she said it, there must be some sort of curse behind those words. And whether or not there was, Brittany couldn't be sure that it would help Santana since she might not believe them the second time around.

She placed her hand over Santana's, gently easing the clenched fingers off her shirt. Santana pressed her forehead against Brittany's neck, seeking comfort in their closeness. "You're not alone, San." Brittany lifted Santana's free hand and brought it to her lips, lightly kissing the knuckles. "There are people who care about you, people who love you."

Santana didn't say anything, but Brittany knew she was listening. "My parents care about you. You have friends, too, who care about you, Santana. Lately, Quinn's been constantly texting me, asking how you are. Mercedes cares, too. The rest of Troubletones, too."

"All of them?" There was doubt in Santana's tone, but it also sounded like she was hoping but deathly afraid of being disappointed.

"All of them. Even Sugar Motta." Brittany hoped the mention of the girl Santana constantly referred to as Richie Bitch would at least slightly amuse or touch her. What she got was a small sound of mildly amused disbelief, but nothing more. "I'm sure New Directions also cares. They're still our family, Santana."

"No, they're not." Santana said bitterly. "They're all probably on Finn's side, bowing to their almighty leader while he sings like he's constipated and sucking on a lemon to pass the time."

Brittany shook her head. "I don't think it's about sides, San. It's like in Blues Clues, and you have Steve looking for clues and Blue messing with his head. It doesn't matter if you're cheering for Steve when he finds the clues or cheering for Blue because she's such a smart and awesome dog for being smarter than her human. It's about how it's a fun journey finding the clues, and how Blue and Steve still love each other, and all the talking furniture still love them both."

"Britt, I'm not sure that show works that way." Though Santana still wasn't quite agreeing with her, at least she didn't sound as resentful.

"Okay, then Tom and Jerry. It's not important in the show if you're rooting for Tom or Jerry, the point is to enjoy watching. And… I think that Tom and Jerry secretly have a love-hate thing going because if they really hated each other, Tom would've eaten Jerry long ago or hired a professional exterminator. And Jerry would have just poisoned Tom's food or shot him in his sleep."

"Britt… why are you connecting it to kid's shows?" Now, she got Santana thinking.

Momentarily feeling pleased with herself for getting Santana to think about it, Brittany answered, "Why do you think?"

"I dunno, because you think the whole picking sides thing is childish?"

"Exactly."

Feeling Santana tense caused a rush of panic to run through in Brittany's mind. What if she'd given the wrong message? "Wait, so are you calling _me_ immature or what?"

"No, it's nothing like that." Brittany hoped she hadn't said that too quickly in her haste to make sure Santana wouldn't take it wrongly. "What I meant to say was that the idea of choosing sides is childish. And if New Directions did that, _they_ would be childish. But I'm pretty sure that they _wouldn't_ be that way because they're better than that." As an afterthought, she added, "Well at least not all of them."

"When did you get so smart?" Santana asked in a way that Brittany knew was meant to sound impressed and not offensive. It was warming to hear. Brittany smiled in response.

Sighing, Santana changed position, laying her head on Brittany's lap. There was a period of silence that passed between them, where both took the time to make sense of their thoughts. Brittany wondered how Santana was feeling and what was running through her mind. Hopefully, she'd said the right things and helped bring about some improvement to her girlfriend's mood.

"Britt?" Santana looked up at her.

"Hmm?"

"Do you really think they care…? I mean… I've given them every reason to hate me, haven't I?"

"But you've also given them reasons to love you, you know." Brittany countered. "You've stood by them, sung with them, been slushied with them, hated Finchel after Nationals with them… Remember what I told you last year? Bad stuff and good stuff happens in families, but we still stick together."

"Even now?"

"Especially now that we're two groups. It's like… like extended family."

"I want to believe it." Santana said softly, so softly, that Brittany almost didn't hear it. "But I'm scared of being disappointed and hurt all over again."

Brittany was tempted to ask Santana to try taking the risk and taking a leap of faith with her, but she knew it was probably too soon. Santana needed time -probably a lot of it- to deal with the gaping wounds she still had right now.

Instead, she tried something else. "Santana, you know I'm here for you, right?" When Santana made the smallest of nods, Brittany continued, "I hope you also know that I love you _very_ much, and I promise to do everything I can to keep you safe. I promise to hold your hand when you're nervous, to hug you and protect you when you're scared, to listen to you when you need someone to talk to, to watch your back when you feel vulnerable."

After toying with the idea, she said, "I'll be like your Powerpuff Girl. Protecting you and saving you and everything." In a sing-song voice, Brittany added, "Fighting crime, trying to change the wooorld. Here I come just in time, San's Powerpuff Giiirl."

This brought a smile to Santana and coaxed a short laugh out of her. "A Powerpuff Girl?"

"Yes." Brittany smiled back. "And I'll also be there to laugh with you when you're happy and celebrate with you when you accomplish great things with your awesomeness."

"You _really_ sound cheesy saying that stuff, Britt-Britt." Santana sat up, bringing their faces mere millimeters apart. "But… I… really liked what you said and… and thanks." Not knowing how else to express her gratitude, Santana did what she usually did when she felt most gratified. She kissed the girl she loves.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> Sorry, I could not resist just another minor little future!Sugar inside joke insert. (I promise it's never going to be a major part of this story xD) It's just fun to play with okay. xD

Keep reading and reviewing, y'all :D Coming up soon are things like Quinn coming over and finally talking to someone other than Puck about her baby issues, Santana's first day back at McKinley after what happened... among others. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Get yourselves ready, my loves, because this next chapter is almost all Brittana and Unholy Trinity. ;)

Oh, and I tried to find the name of Brittany's sister, and several people have called her Emily, and I dunno if that's cannon, but it sounds like a nice name to me and I'm gonna use it. :D

Keep reading and reviewing because it makes me happy and inspires me to keep writing :D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

* * *

><p>The girl in the mirror looked different from what she was used to seeing. For starters, the black eye was of course worth mentioning. The swelling was beginning to go down, but it was a darker shade of purple now, and there were patches of skin from her temple to her cheekbone that were an ugly color somewhere between maroon and burgundy. She still wasn't used to seeing <em>that<em> there. Another unfamiliar feature was the hair- normally alive, sleek and silky, now a limp and tangled mess.

Who _is_ that?

It didn't really look like Santana Lopez, most popular girl in McKinley, top Cheerio (Becky doesn't count), Queen of Lima Heights. Nothing like her. Santana almost felt like she was looking at a stranger. Some sad nobody who sticks to the shadows when walking along school hallways. Not a confident, highly attractive cheerleader.

Pale arms snaked their way around her waist while a familiar face came and rested on her shoulder. Santana looked from her reflection to Brittany's, unable to keep herself from comparing their appearances. Even with her bedhead and half-asleep eyes, Brittany still looked sexy. Or at least, that's what Santana thought.

"You're still beautiful, you know." It spooked Santana to hear this, as if Brittany had somehow managed to read her thoughts. Like she almost always did. It was… inconvenient whenever Santana would be in the middle of trying to hide something. But it was also one of the things she loved most about being with Brittany and talking to her.

As touching as it was to hear what Brittany said, Santana still couldn't quite see it, however much she studied her reflection. "No, I look worse than Trouty Mouth after Karofsky made a punching bag out of his face."

"At least you don't have bleached Bieber hair." Brittany gently pressed her lips against Santana's cheek in an affectionate kiss. "Have you been putting that stuff to help your eye get better faster?"

Santana nodded, holding up the small tube of ointment Mrs. Pierce had given her. She gave the bathroom mirror another doubtful glance, looking at her reflection before watching Brittany's, her chin still resting on Santana's shoulder. "How's your hand?" she tried changing the topic.

Brittany's eyes rested on her bruised knuckles for a short while before returning to Santana. "It's still a little sore, but it's a lot better than yesterday. I think I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Good." Santana smiled, glad to know this, but still secretly wishing she could beat the fat out of Finn for causing this. Directly or indirectly, he still _did_ cause it.

"Quinn's gonna be here soon," Brittany reminded her before letting go of her waist. "I'll go and check if she's sent me any more texts."

"Do I _have_ to see her?" Santana pouted, her doubts and insecurities suddenly rushing to the surface. What would Quinn think if she saw Santana like this? The last time Quinn had seen her, Santana had been a weeping mess. Today, she'd be seeing a bruised mess. Santana was not comfortable with the idea of that. Should she just hide in some room while Brittany entertained their guest? Maybe this whole thing was just a really _really_ bad idea.

Brittany's eyes reflected concern as she walked back towards Santana. "What's bothering you?"

"I just…" Santana glanced at the mirror for the umpteenth time. She bit her lip and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm just…" It would sound _so_ stupid once she said it out loud. Feeling conscious, Santana kept her eyes downcast and mumbled the answer. "I don't really want her to see me like this."

"Aww, Sanny…" Brittany placed a hand on Santana's face, and Santana found herself leaning her cheek into Brittany's palm. "No one's going to judge you. Besides, I _know_ you still look just as beautiful and sexy and amazingly awesome as ever."

"Thanks, Britt." As much as she doubted the truth to Brittany's words, Santana still felt pleasure bubbling within her thanks to the compliment. And probably from the way Brittany's thumb was stroking her cheek, too. With a mind of its own, Santana's lips formed a wide grin.

Brittany smiled back, gave Santana's nose a poke and said, "Now brush your hair."

* * *

><p>"I was never part of your crazy plan to get Beth back by making Shelby look like a bad mom. That was all <em>you<em>, Quinn." Puck was washing his hands of the mess, and it was infuriating. "So don't pin this on me. And _yeah_, I took back the stuff you put. _Yeah_, I told Shelby."

"I thought you said you wanted Beth back!" Quinn tightened her grip on her phone, imagining that it was Puck's neck. Her overwhelming rage was making it difficult to concentrate on driving, and Quinn regretted answering Puck's call when she was still a good twenty minutes or so away from the Pierce house. She really wished she was in front of Puck right now so she could slap and punch him with everything she had. "I was the one with the plan to make that happen. That was better than you sitting around in the house wishing and waiting!"

"I _did_ want Beth back!" Puck yelled out his immediate response, but toned down his voice before continuing, "And I kind of still do… but I get that Beth was meant to be with Shelby."

"How would _you_ know?" Quinn snapped. "I'm her _mother_. She was meant to be with _me_."

"And Rachel is Shelby's daughter, but she was meant to be with her dads." It was difficult… probably impossible to come up with a decent point with which to counter Puck's argument, and that only heightened Quinn's anger. This was a battle she was losing, and she didn't like how that felt.

"Thanks for stabbing me in the back, Puckerman." That was a pathetic retort and she knew it. Unfortunately, in this state, Quinn had nothing else to go on.

"It's not like that! Look, I'm sorry if I went behind you and told Shelby. But it's not like what we were doing to her was right… or any different. She _trusted_ us to babysit Beth that one time. And what'd we do?"

"I was willing to do whatever it took to get my baby back."

"She's not your baby anymore, Quinn! Get it through your head! She's Shelby's now, and it's a frickin' miracle that she's still willing to even be in the same school as us."

Too angry at Puck for betraying her, too angry at Shelby for saying she couldn't see Beth anymore, too angry at herself for knowing deep down that Puck was right, and too lost for words to respond, Quinn ended the call and tossed her phone to the passenger seat.

Beth had come out of the womb of Quinn Fabray. Beth had been carried for nine long months by Quinn Fabray. Beth was genetically, biologically connected to Quinn Fabray. If _that_ wasn't undeniable, undispitable proof enough that Quinn Fabray was rightfully the mother of Beth, then Quinn didn't know what was.

That's what she kept telling herself. If she just kept telling herself that, then she would be convinced.

_'You have _no_ idea what it means to be a mother. It's not about whose body she comes out of. It's about accepting the fact that _you don't matter anymore_. That your feelings and that your life and that your _body_, they all come _second_. To making sure that the child is _happy_ and _safe_.'_

Shelby Corcoran's words came at her from all sides and for the umpteenth time, Quinn was forced to question herself. She remembered what she had told Puck, when she'd trusted him enough to open up to him (what a great decision _that_ had been). Quinn had expressed how she felt about being left behind while everyone fulfills big plans and big dreams. At least, if their plan succeeded, she would have someone as beautiful and perfect as Beth to hold and keep close.

_That your feelings and that your life and that your _body_, they all come _second_._

Quinn's reasons for wanting Beth back sounded more like she was putting herself first… Which, according to Shelby Corcoran's reasoning, was wrong. Supposedly. But what would she know? She gave _her_ baby up. That wasn't exactly an act that would win a Mother of the Year award.

_Just focus on getting to the Pierce house_. Quinn echoed her own advice to Brittany from just the other day. It wasn't long now, anyway. She was already in the neighborhood and just a couple of turns away. All she needed to do was focus. Focus.

_It's not about whose body she comes out of. It's about accepting the fact that you don't matter anymore._

Almost there. Just two turns more. Focus.

_You have _no_ idea what it means to be a mother._

One more turn.

_It's not about whose body she comes out of._

Just a few more blocks.

_'You have _no_ idea what it means to be a mother. It's not about whose body she comes out of. It's about accepting the fact that _you don't matter anymore_. That your feelings and that your life and that your _body_, they all come _second_. To making sure that the child is _happy_ and _safe_.'_

Quinn felt like she was going crazy. It was a miracle she'd made it to Brittany's driveway without crashing the car that Mom had gotten her for her birthday. Now _that_ would have been a story to tell. She'd crashed into that lamppost because she was hearing voices in her head. Crazy. That excuse would have gotten her shipped straight to a mental institute before the hypothetically totaled car could even get to the nearest junkyard. And in that situation, Artie would learn to walk before Quinn would see daylight again.

Running a hand through her hair, Quinn took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping Ms. Corcoran's words would leave her mind together with the breath leaving her body.

Santana. This day would be about Santana.

With this reminder at the front of her mind, and Beth still lurking somewhere beneath the surface, Quinn got out of the car and rang the doorbell of the Pierce house. She fidgeted with her hair and blouse before the door swung open to reveal Mrs. Pierce, who warmly ushered her in with a welcoming smile that was almost a mirror image of Brittany's. "Hello there, Quinn! Come in, dear. Brittie and Santana are upstairs, but I'd knock before going in, if I were you." With a knowing wink, Mrs. Pierce walked off, heading towards the kitchen, "I'm working on some snacks for you girls, and I'll call when they're ready."

Still trying to get over the tangled mess of anger, frustration, guilt and insecurity, Quinn forced her lips into a tight smile. "Thanks, Mrs. P." She said in as cheerful a voice as she could manage before making her way to Brittany's room. The three of them had thrown so many sleepovers for years (Brittany and Santana probably had a lot more without her, too) that they were very well acquainted with each other's homes.

As she lightly knocked on the door, Quinn wondered if Puck had tried texting an apology for upsetting her or if he'd just sent her more lectures. Or if he hadn't sent any message since she'd ended their last conversation so abruptly. This train of thought started heading back to the station where Ms. Corcoran was in control of everything.

_Santana_. Today was about Santana. _Santana and Brittany_. Focus. Quinn reminded herself that once she got to talking to that inseparable pair, it'd be easier to push away Beth thoughts and Puck drama and voices in her head. This was _just_ what she needed to take a break from dealing with her own problems. And besides, she had promised herself to be a better friend. She was being a crappy mother, that much was already obvious. The score for friendship wasn't exactly perfect either, but at least she could work on improving it.

Quinn opened the door slightly, but stopped when she heard voices.

"I still feel kinda uncomfortably about this."

"It'll be fine."

"I hope so…"

"I'm proud of you, Santana." That was Brittany, using her most encouraging voice. Through the small gap she'd made between the door and the doorframe, Quinn saw the two girls sitting on the edge of Brittany's bed, their backs to the door. From the way their hands were positioned, it looked like they were linking pinkies. "A year ago, you wouldn't even talk about feelings. And we… we didn't even know what we were."

"Yeah…" Santana had whispered it so quietly, Quinn just barely heard it. Was she intruding? Probably. Should she stop listening, close the door and then knock louder? Probably. _Would_ she? Not yet.

"And now, we've been talking a lot more and-"

"Sexing a lot less." Quinn was pretty sure she _shouldn't_ have heard that. They were her friends and she loved them and she wasn't homophobic or anything like that, but that still didn't stop her from feeling even just a little bit weirded out by the image of her two best friends getting it on. It was just... awkward.

Brittany laughed at this, nudging Santana with her shoulder. "It doesn't necessarily mean we've been getting our sweet lady kisses less than we used to." Then in a voice that Quinn hadn't heard Brittany use before, "But we _can_ if you want to."

"Oh, like right now?" Santana practically purred her response.

_Seriously?_ Were they _really_ going to get into that when they knew they had a guest coming over? Well, then again, they had no idea that said guest was right outside, listening and watching like a creeper.

Still. _Seriously_?

Brittany initiated the kiss while her hands went for Santana's waist with what looked like practiced and comfortable ease. Santana was starting to lean back, her own hands were running up and down Brittany's back.

_Seriously_?

Quinn gave the door several hard bangs and opened it completely.

Immediately, Santana pushed Brittany away and twisted to face the door, a look of shock clearly etched onto her face. But Quinn, too, found herself momentarily stunned. Brittany had warned her about Santana having a black eye, but actually seeing it was something else. It made her wonder how much it hurt, as well as imagine how it might have happened. Unpleasant thoughts.

"Quinn! Hi!" Brittany waved cheerfully.

"You didn't see anything." The shock faded away from Santana's face, to be replaced with the threatening look that Quinn was more used to seeing. Was she serious or joking? Or maybe a bit of both?

Snapping out of her state of surprise, Quinn decided to mask the jumble of feelings she still couldn't make sense of by mirroring Santana's behavior. She folded her arms across her chest, raised an eyebrow and said, "What if I did?"

"No. You saw nothing, Q." Santana kept it up, but then seemed to soften with a semi-playful but still semi-threatening, "And if you did, it was a hallucination caused by the fumes from that time you fried your brain with pink hair dye."

Playing along, Quinn countered, "If I _did_ see something, it wouldn't be the first time. I've seen you two making out at the back of the Cheerios locker room when you think everyone else is gone." Making out and… more than that, too. On several occasions.

"Bitch!" Santana tossed a pillow.

Quinn lifted her hands to catch it, but her reflexes kicked in too late. The pillow had already given her face a slap and a hug by the time she'd grabbed it. Santana's triumphant laughter rang in her ears, shortly joined by Brittany's amused giggles.

"You did _not_ just do that." Lowering the pillow from her face, Quinn locked her eyes on Santana and got ready to hit her target. "I'll get you for that, Lo-" Quinn was cut off by another pillow to the face, this time from Santana's partner in crime.

"Too bad for you, Q, I gots me some backup." Santana taunted.

This was _exactly_ what she needed. The gateway to a little time without any thoughts of Beth or Shelby or Puck was wide open, right in front of her and inviting her in. Quinn dived through it and landed on Brittany's bed. With both the pillows they'd tossed at her, Quinn gave Santana a swat to the shoulder while Brittany got her own taste of a face full of pillow.

In an instant, the three of them were laughing and playing like children. It was like Nationals last year, but on a smaller scale. Quinn enjoyed the carefree feeling of just letting go of everything and enjoying the moment of a fun game with friends. The last time she'd experienced this joy and contentment felt like lifetimes ago.

Still, every time Quinn tossed or swung a pillow at Santana, she made sure to avoid hits to the face and tried to keep a subtle eye on Santana's knee. The proud Latina would probably hate her and threaten to beat the hell out of her if the truth got out, but Quinn would rather have that than end their game too soon by unintentionally hurting her friend. Besides, it was likely that Brittany would be the one mauling Quinn if Santana got hurt.

Brittany towered over them all as she stood up on the bed, while Santana and Quinn traded pillow blows on the floor next to the bed. Quinn had Santana backing up until she'd bumped into the bedside table and was effectively cornered. With a laugh of victory, Quinn aimed for the side of Santana's stomach (the spot that looked most risk-free).

But before Quinn could deliver the final hit, Brittany came out of nowhere with a pillow that shoved Quinn off balance and caused her to ungracefully land on the bed.

Instantly, the already unfair two-on-one battle took a turn for the worst as the duo came upon Quinn, ganging up on her with merciless tickles. "We're going to make you _beg_ for mercy, Fabray!" Santana, of course was going to play this game as ruthlessly as possible.

Unable to keep herself from laughing, Quinn struggled and squirmed, "Nev- hahah-NEVER! Hahahahah" But right after saying this, Quinn began begging.

Brittany and Santana continued for a moment longer before stopping and flopping down next to her, squishing her in between them. The laughter that filled the air, made up of three different voices was a melodious sound that carried with it memories of the untroubled days when they used to do this all the time.

"Gotta… hand it to you, Q…" Santana finally managed to gasp out intelligent words after the incoherent giggles she'd been making for ages, "You've been… such a stuck-up bitch… for such a long time, I didn't know you still had it in you to loosen up like this."

"Well I'm honestly surprised someone as prickly and cranky as you still knows how to laugh." Quinn retorted good-naturedly before addressing Brittany, "And you, Britt, Santana has taught you well. You played dirty today, I almost thought I was up against two Santanas."

Brittany smiled and played along, "Looks like those training sessions under my mentor paid off. Thank you, Santana!"

Lord Tubbington waddled into the room, hissed at them as if to reprimand their childishness, then scrambled into his basket. Through narrowed green eyes, the cat watched them with apparent disapproval.

Wait… _what?_

Now, Quinn was sure she was losing her mind. "Britt… is your cat _staring_ at us?"

Brittany sat up, looked at the disturbingly overweight cat then turned to them, "Probably. He usually avoids my room or looks away whenever Santana and I-"

"_Shush!_" Santana hissed, glaring at Brittany.

Guessing what Brittany was going to say, Quinn found herself smirking at Santana, who tried to glare at her icily. It would've worked if Santana's face hadn't turned bright red. The image of what the two of them do in private still made Quinn mildly uncomfortable, but seeing Santana squirm was amusing.

"So how's it going at New Directions?" Brittany changed the topic.

Quinn sat up, joining Brittany in leaning against the headboard. "It's… kind of tense right now. A lot of drama going on." She wasn't sure about how much she could say. The last thing Quinn wanted to do was upset them with the knowledge that they were part of the reason why things were so messed up in New Directions right now. Well… she wasn't sure if Santana would be affected, but she knew for a fact that Brittany would definitely feel guilty about it.

"When _isn't_ there drama in there?" Santana rolled her eyes and joined them in sitting up. Quinn couldn't help but notice that Santana winced slightly as she made the movement. Was her knee bothering her? Quinn didn't know the extent of the injury, but she hoped it wasn't serious enough to affect Santana's cheering. Though being a Cheerio no longer really mattered to Quinn, she knew that it was still pretty important to Brittany and Santana.

To hide the worry that would probably only agitate Santana, Quinn laughed and said, "You're right, there's always drama. But this time, I think it's a little more than usual."

"Is it really bad?" Brittany asked worriedly.

"It's not _that_ bad…" Quinn reassured her, but paused to figure out what to say. Actually, it really _wasn't_ that bad. Finding two more people to fill the twelve-member requirement in time for Sectionals- that was a bigger problem, really. With a talented singer like Blaine in their group, the Finn drama wouldn't get too in the way of their glee club in terms of performance quality. "Just some fight going on between Finn and Kurt."

"Finn and Kurt? Wow, that must be awkward since they like live in the same house." Santana said.

"Probably…" Quinn hadn't quite thought about that. What must it be like in the Hudson-Hummel household these days? Or were Finn and Kurt making up over the weekend?

Though Brittany yesterday hinted at harboring a great deal of anger towards Finn, her sensitive personality shown through when she said, "I hope it all works out okay for them..." It was so like her to have room to worry about peace being maintained among friends.

"Well at least _someone's_ getting in his face and letting him know he's not perfect top dog or whatever the hell fetus-face thinks he is." Santana muttered, folding her arms across her chest. Quinn wasn't sure if now was the right time to ask Santana how she was feeling, though Quinn's first instinct had been to ask exactly that.

"San…" Brittany, ever sensitive to her girlfriend's moods, spoke in a soft and gentle tone.

Santana refused to look at Brittany. "It's about time."

Quinn was starting to feel like a third wheel. But like Brittany, Quinn was also worried about Santana. Today was supposed to be all about her, after all. Today was Santana and Brittany day, _not_ Beth and Shelby day. "You okay?" Quinn asked quietly, hoping it would urge Santana to open up and _not_ push her further into her armored and prickly shell.

"I'm _fine_." Santana turned her face towards the wall, effectively looking away from both of them.

"We'll listen if you want to talk…" Brittany sounded hurt by Santana closing up, but she was still offering support, just the same. Meanwhile, Quinn thought about the pros and cons of intervening.

"I. Am. Fine." Still refusing to face either of them, Santana spoke coldly, punching the words out one by one.

Obviously, she wasn't fine. Though Quinn would normally just let it slide, she assumed that since Brittany wasn't letting it go yet, she shouldn't either. "C'mon, Santana. You can talk to us." Hopefully, her attempt to help Brittany coax Santana into opening up would work. "Trust us."

"What do you want me to say?" Santana's head spun to face them. With her intimidating black eye and raised voice, Santana was actually kind of frightening. Quinn would never admit that out loud though. "That I'm angry at Finn? Uhhuh, _I am_. That I wish I could tear him into little pieces and grind the pieces into powder and throw the powder into a fire and run over the ashes with a tank? Yeah, I do. Do I blame him for what's going on now? Yeah, I do. Because it's easier to be angry at one person you barely like than it is to be angry with two people you love and thought loved you too. You want to hear what happened to me, Quinn?" Quinn had barely been aware of herself shrinking under Santana's wrath until she was practically lying down while Santana, sitting up, continued to vent. "I was kicked out and I dunno how the hell I'm supposed to deal with it. And at this point, I just want to _hate_ them. I want to hate them really _really_ badly. But so far, I _suck_ at it!"

Santana glared at them both before getting off the bed and limping towards the door. Quinn was too stunned to say or do anything.

"San, where're you going?" Brittany scrambled to the edge of the bed.

Santana paused at the door, keeping her back to them. They watched her tense shoulders rise and fall with each deep, ragged breath. When she spoke again, it was in a much calmer voice. "I don't know… maybe your backyard. I just need some air and space." Santana looked over her shoulder and met Brittany's eyes. "Okay, Britt-Britt?"

"Okay, San…" Brittany nodded. Quinn could practically feel the pain and anxiety enveloping the girl next to her.

With a small, forced smile, Santana nodded to Brittany, briefly locked eyes with Quinn and limped out of the room.

* * *

><p>Brittany stared at the doorway, lost. Part of her wanted to rush out and comfort Santana, the other part wanted to give her the space she was asking for. Part of her wished this was all over and things could just be <em>okay<em>. With a sigh of defeat, Brittany flopped down onto the bed.

"You okay?" Quinn asked the question that had a pretty obvious answer.

"Not really." Brittany closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that things would get better one day. That this was just a stormy night and the rainbow would come after they survive the wind and rain. "I feel like a sad little panda."

Lying back down next to her, Quinn said, "I'm worried about her, too."

Brittany opened her eyes then grabbed the nearest pillow and held it close to her chest, trying to find comfort in hugging the soft but inanimate object. "I just wish there was something I could do to make her feel better."

"You've done a lot for her already, Britt." Quinn said in a tone that was both soft and firm, somehow. "And I know for a fact that you make her happy."

The image of the broken and crying Santana that she'd frequently been seeing the past few days made Brittany doubt the truth to Quinn's words. "Do I?"

"Uh-huh. She's a different person when she's with you." The certainty in Quinn's voice was almost enough to sway Brittany. "She's… happier and… _nicer_. She's… she's a better person when she's with you."

This reminded Brittany of one of those moments when Santana was showing her well-hidden tender side. It was quite a while back, when talk of feelings was still relatively rare. Compared to now at least.

It was when they were having a sleepover in Santana's house and they got to talking about Glee and Cheerios, about how being a Cheerio required a mean streak, while in contrast, being in Glee was all about love and acceptance. Though both of them were part of both groups, Santana was better at showing Cheerio qualities while Brittany naturally showed the Glee values.

_'I'm trying, Britt.' Santana said quietly, fidgeting with the dark blue blanket. 'Really, I am.'_

_Now wasn't the right time to pressure Santana to stop being such a mean bully, and Brittany knew that. This was a process that would take small steps at a time. At her own pace, Santana was doing what she could to be nicer, to Glee kids, at least. Little by little. So instead of asking her to try harder, Brittany encouragingly said, 'I know, San.' _

_'I see you hanging out with them… and I see how easy it is for you to hug and laugh and enjoy their company and stuff like that.' Santana traced random shapes along the folds of the blanket beneath them. 'They really _do_ like you… and I want them to like me, too.'_

_'They _do_ like you, Santana.' Brittany insisted._

_'I doubt that. But even if they did, it wouldn't be anywhere near as much as they like you or Mr. Manboobs.' Santana bit her lip, 'But I want to try getting them to like me… but being someone other than the bitch who brings them down… I'm not sure how to do that.' Then in a barely audible whisper, she added, "I'm so afraid of screwing up if I try."_

_'Look…' Brittany held Santana's hand, their fingers intertwining, 'When we're alone… like this… you're really funny and sweet and sensitive and amazing and awesome…' Taking her eyes from her and Santana's hands, Brittany looked straight at the other girl's face, 'And when you're hiding this awesomeness, you're keeping everyone else from seeing just how big of a heart Santana Lopez really has. And like we said… Glee is about love and acceptance. They'll love and accept you if they just got to see this side of you.'_

_There was a smile on Santana's face as she squeezed Brittany's hand. 'When I'm with you, Britt… I feel like… I don't want to be a bad person anymore…'_

_'You're _not_ a bad person.' Brittany corrected her automatically._

_'I feel like… like I want to be the best friggin' person that I can possibly be because you deserve nothing less than that.'_

"Quinn?" Brittany turned her head to look at Quinn.

"Yes?"

"Has New Directions… um… talked about Santana lately?" The answer didn't come right away, and Brittany had to patiently wait for it. When the nervous urge to take it back tempted her, she suppressed it. This was something that Brittany felt she needed to know. Even if she was almost sure that New Directions didn't hate Santana, Brittany nevertheless felt a need to make sure. At the very least, it was so she could be sure that she wasn't lying to her girlfriend and best friend every time conversation went to whether or not New Directions was fond of Santana.

Quinn finally replied, but when she did, she didn't elaborate, as if she was buying time. "We did."

Did this mean she was putting off the sharing of bad news? Brittany tried to stay optimistic, but she was starting to fear the worst. Fidgeting uneasily, she hesitated for a moment, bracing herself, before prompting Quinn to continue. "And…?"

Brittany watched Quinn bite her lip. "Er… Finn and Kurt… it... it was because of Santana's… _situation_." Hastily, Quinn rolled onto her side to face Brittany fully, "But it's not because of Santana or her fault or anything like that, okay?"

"O-okay." Brittany wasn't sure how to react to this news.

"And the Kurt-Finn thing ended up becoming a New Directions thing." Quinn's voice changed from earlier's frantic tone to careful and hesitant. "Er… _most_ of us think Finn should apologize to Santana. But some think that… -_and I'm not saying I agree with them_- that… they think that Santana _had_ gone too far with… with her insults." Brittany hadn't forgotten how the Mash-Off week went. Santana had been meaner than usual, attacking Finn and Rory almost constantly. "And those people –_again, I'm not one of them_- think Finn and Santana should… should talk it over civilly. "

"I'd like that, too… But Santana's not up to it." Brittany still felt angry with Finn, and still kind of blamed him for the situation, but she had to admit that it would be nice to see Santana and Finn make peace. It would be a pleasant change to see them be in the same room without either attacking the other. That, and Brittany was almost sure that a talk with Finn (and an apology) might help Santana feel better.

Quinn nodded. She toyed with one of the pillows before saying, "But most of us _are_ worried about her, actually."

"They don't hate her?" Brittany wanted to be sure. She also wished Santana were here to hear this herself. It would have eased all those fears that seem to bother her so much.

"No, I don't think so."

It was relieving to hear this. Brittany smiled gratefully, but was soon frowning once she noticed how Quinn looked. A distant expression was slowly making its way to her face, and her eyes looked unfocused. Whatever it was Quinn was thinking about, it was something that was really bothered her. "Quinn, you okay?"

As if startled by being interrupted from her thoughts, Quinn flinched. Blinking a few times, she stammered out, "I-I… I'm… I'm fine."

Brittany tilted her head to one side, suddenly feeling very concerned. She recalled Quinn's tone when they had the short phone conversation last night. Did something bad happen? "No… you're not." In an effort to show that she cared, Brittany sat up and touched Quinn's hand. "And you can always talk to me about it if you want to…"

Quinn toyed with Brittany's fingers. She looked like she was considering the offer, but for some reason, held back. "I don't know, Britt…"

"Or do you wanna talk about something else?"

"I don't… I… Britt, I'm not sure…" Quinn looked torn and lost, a look that Brittany wasn't used to seeing on the face of one of the most confident girls she'd ever known. "I… I feel…" Visibly swallowing, Quinn shook her head and instead said, "Maybe another day, we can talk about it… I'm just… I don't know… I-"

Saving Quinn from further struggling to find the right words to express herself, Brittany simply said, "I understand."

From there, they moved on to talk about lighter topics, exchanging progress reports on how much homework they'd accomplished, making fun of Coach Sue and Mr. Schue, light gossip about Cheerios and jocks… things like that.

* * *

><p>Santana didn't know how long she spent sitting on the bench in Brittany's backyard, staring at the wall but not really <em>seeing<em> it. Her thoughts brought her far and wide, ranging from bittersweet memories to fears of the future to parents to insecurities to glee to cheerleading to friends to the Pierces to Brittany. Every time she got on a new train of thought, she wound up back in Brittany's station.

It was the starting point and the ending point of each trip, and knowing that was comforting. Whatever was going to happen now, she had Brittany by her side, faithfully supporting Santana every step of the way and lifting her up every time she stumbled.

Quinn… Quinn was worth thinking about, too. Even if she'd been distant and a little insane for the past few months, Quinn was here _now_. And as much as their friendship had a tendency to border on frienemy quite often, and as much as she still felt uncomfortable admitting weakness to anyone other than Brittany, Santana appreciated the support that Quinn was offering now.

Sighing, Santana remembered how she'd lost her cool and yelled at them before leaving the room. She wasn't even mad _at them_. It just… _happened_. Santana massaged her temples. They didn't deserve her barbed words and temper tantrums. She barely had anyone to turn to now, and yelling at the few people who still cared about her was definitely made up of equal parts stupid and wrong.

"Saannnyyy!" The shrill voice of Brittany's younger sister, Emily, burst through Santana's haze of thoughts. "Mommy made cookies!" The eight-year-old excitedly bounced around in front of Santana and brandished the half-eaten and crumbling remains of what could only be Mrs. Pierce's chocolate chip cookies. They were so good, they'd give Mrs. Fields a run for her money.

"There any left for me?" Santana asked, unable to keep herself from smiling at the hyperactive little girl. Cheerfulness and optimistic energy are just part of the Pierce family's genes. And more often than not, under just the right conditions, it can get contagious.

"Yup! There's lots! Go to the kitchen! Hurry!" Emily grabbed one of Santana's hands and practically yanked her off the bench. "I'm gonna get Quinn and Britt now, so if you wanna grab and eat a bunch before they arrive, you have to _move_!" After delivering this warning, Emily hurried back inside.

Feeling a contradicting combination of amusement and dread, Santana made her way to the kitchen, ignoring the light twinges of pain from her scraped skin.

* * *

><p>Quinn and Brittany went downstairs together, where they found Santana already in the living room, munching on Mrs. Pierce's cookies. Judging by the content way she was eating and the lazy way she draped her body over the lounge chair, Quinn thought it was safe to say that Santana was in a better mood.<p>

Upon seeing them, Santana gave a hesitant smile and wave.

Not sure what this meant, Quinn hung back while Brittany rushed over to her girlfriend. Quinn watched them link pinkies and heard Santana mumble an apology. Brittany just cheerfully bobbed up and down and whispered something in Santana's ear before squeezing herself into the seat. The comfortable, familiar way the pair did this gave Quinn the idea that this wasn't unusual behavior for them. The two looked so close and cozy, with barely any space between them, their bodies fitting together, Santana's leg draped over Brittany's lap, Brittany's arm around Santana's shoulders.

Third wheel.

"Quinn, here, have some!" Quinn nearly jumped out of her skin, startled by the sudden voice behind her. In an effort to hide her shock, she put on a smile and turned around to see Mrs. Pierce smiling and offering a platter of cookies.

Accepting the snacks, Quinn thanked Mrs. Pierce and took a seat on the sofa next to the chair Brittany and Santana were sharing.

"Hey, Q…"

Quinn looked at Santana and saw that the sappy, love-struck grin she'd had when Brittany joined her was replaced by a more serious expression.

"Um… I'm… I… er… I'm sorry about earlier." Santana glanced at Brittany before returning her focus to Quinn. "And y'know… thanks for being here and stuff." Santana really does suck at expressing herself. But then again, who was Quinn to judge? She couldn't even tell Brittany about her baby drama.

To show that it was all fine, Quinn smiled and said, "Don't worry about it." Inwardly though, she still resented herself for not being such a good friend in the past. Heck, she still didn't feel like she could consider herself a decent friend _now_, when half the time, Beth kept managing to worm her way into Quinn's mind in the middle of all this.

Feeling eyes on her, Quinn found Brittany staring at her with worry. Shifting uncomfortably, Quinn looked down at her snacks and tried not to look at Brittany.

Oblivious to the exchange, Santana was readily shifting the topic from apologies to what to do next. "We're down here, we gots ourselves some damn good snacks, we gots a TV in front of us. Let's watch something."

"Sure!" Quinn tried to sound as eager as possible, but she knew that it wouldn't be enough to convince Brittany.

* * *

><p>After they watched and laughed at several comedies, Brittany invited Quinn to sleep over, still worried about her friend and interested in finding out just what had been bothering her so much lately. Quinn, however, declined, even after Brittany begged, Santana casually asked and Mom tempted with dinner and dessert.<p>

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Brittany asked Santana once they were settled in her room again and getting ready for bed.

"Well I nearly went all Lima Heights on you two." Santana sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her wound. There was no bandage covering it now, so the scraped skin from knee to shin was in plain sight. Looking at it made Brittany cringe. "So I wouldn't exactly consider it great."

Leaving her hairbrush on the dresser, Brittany sat on the other side of the bed. "That was just one short little incident. We had a great time with the pillow fight and the movie marathon." She left out the part where Quinn's mood seemed off before the movie had started.

"It was still… y'know… _wrong_ to yell at you guys."

Brittany crawled over to Santana and prodded her ribs, making her squirm. "Look on the bright side! Think about double rainbows instead of one little storm cloud." When Santana didn't respond, Brittany moved closer and draped her torso over Santana's lap. "Pleeeaaase?" she pouted.

Santana rolled her eyes but smiled when she said, "Okay, fine, I admit it was fun minus that little… _incident_." The smile faded, followed by a soft sigh. "I meant what I said though… about hating them… but sucking at it."

This was something Brittany just wasn't all that sure about. Her own parents… Brittany didn't think she could ever hate them. They've been angry with her before, and she'd had her fair share of punishment- extra chores, lectures, being grounded… things like that. But Brittany could never recall them ever dealing out physical punishment. And whenever she would do something wrong (or at least… get caught doing something wrong), they would let her explain herself. Then their disappointment in her would be more painful and discouraging than any extra chore or limited freedom.

Santana's parents were a different story. Conversations other than reports on the latest accomplishment at work or school were few and far between. Or at least that's what Santana had reluctantly told Brittany when she'd expressed her curiosity. It _did_ kind of explain why talking about and expressing feelings was such a difficult thing for Santana.

"You can't blame yourself, San…" was all Brittany could think of saying. "I mean… it's not like you can turn your feelings on and off."

"Doesn't keep me from wishing that I could."

"Well-"

"Can we not talk about it tonight?" Santana toyed with Brittany's hair. "It's not that I'm locking you out, Britt. I'm just… I'm not down with talking and thinking about it. And I feel like… if I just focus on other stuff like… like you and school and Troubletones and whatever… it'll be easier to think of _them_ less."

Brittany nodded, "Okay."

* * *

><p>When she drove away from the Pierce house, Quinn had every intention of heading straight home. There was nowhere else she needed to go, after all. Besides, she texted her mother after leaving Brittany's and quite clearly said that she would be home soon. There were no detours planned out, just a straight ride home.<p>

So why, then, was Quinn's car parked just outside Shelby Corcoran's house?

No amount of shifting through the scattered thoughts in her mind produced any intelligent answer.

Sighing, Quinn leaned back and closed her eyes. At least half an hour must have already gone by since she first pulled over here. What was she doing? Being this near to Beth, but being too far to touch her, to even _see_ her… this was hell. What could she possibly gain from being here? Couldn't she just go home now?

But Quinn found it difficult to start the car up again and drive away just like that. It was like something was pulling her in. Some strong force was compelling her to get out of the car and get into the house. The problem? Other than the obvious fact that this was kind of an ungodly hour for a visit, there was another, equally strong force that kept Quinn in her seat.

Quinn bit her lip and thought about asking for another chance. She considered apologizing for her stupid plan. A plan that probably would have never even worked, whether or not Ms. Corcoran found out. She toyed with the idea of begging for permission to see Beth again and swearing not to do anything malicious from now on.

Would it even work?

Quinn figured that it was worth a try. It wasn't like she had anything left to lose at this point. With shaky hands, she fumbled with the keys and the door.

The door to Ms. Corcoran's house burst open and Quinn automatically ducked out of view. It was dark and she wasn't _exactly_ in front of the house, and hers wasn't the only car along this street. Quinn thought it was safe to assume that unless they were looking for her, she wouldn't be seen. Still, she wasn't sure why she was even hiding.

Though she had her doubts, Quinn decided to follow her instincts and stayed out of sight while she watched through the gaps in the steering wheel.

The person heading out of the house was Puck, unmistakable thanks to his overgrown mohawk. Quinn couldn't hear their voices, but based on the body language, she could tell that Puck was agitated. Ms. Corcoran, too, looked peeved.

With an angry, dismissive wave of his hands, Puck turned his back on Ms. Corcoran and walked away. In response, Ms. Corcoran banged the door closed.

Quinn watched Puck walk over to his truck, which she hadn't noticed was parked barely a block away from her own car. As he started his vehicle, Quinn decided to follow him. The moment an opportunity to confront him would present itself, she would take it without a second thought.

Following him down a few streets was uneventful until he started weaving, but not in a way that indicated he was trying to avoid her. Quinn guessed that whatever happened in Ms. Corcoran's house was bothering Puck, and he was dealing with it in the usual Noah Puckerman way- drinking away at the emergency bottle he always had ready under the passenger seat.

Out of both concern and frustration, Quinn grabbed her phone and selected his name. After several rings, he answered with an irritable, "What?"

"Pull over." Quinn made full use of the strong, commanding tone she used to always employ when she was head cheerleader and had numerous people to order around. "Now."

Only silence came from the other end of the phone, but eventually, the truck moved to the side of the road and slowed to a stop. Quinn ended the call and pulled over behind Puck before getting out of her car to stand next to his.

"What'd'ya want?" Puck poked his head out of the window and fired his alcohol-laden breath into her face.

Quinn cringed but didn't step back. "What were you doing at Shelby's?"

Puck took a swig from his bottle before answering her question with his own question. "What's it to you?"

"Because I don't find it fair that she won't let _me_ see Beth but she lets a drunk idiot like _you_ into her house." Quinn resisted the urge to slap some sense into him.

"This's my first drink in _aaages!_" Puck's tone was steadily changing from low growl to angry yelling. "Not that it's any of _your_ business. Leave me the fuck alone!"

"It _is_ my business because the creeps that my daughter is exposed to _matters to me!_" Quinn realized she was also starting to yell. That, and what she was saying was true. Though part of why she was gradually growing angrier had do with her envy, she was also genuinely thinking about Beth.

"Well you won't have to worry about it anymore, Mommy Fabray because I'm just about as unwelcome in that damned house as you are now!" Puck started the engine and started rolling up the window.

"_What happened?_" Quinn demanded, slamming her palm against the truck door. "And don't you dare-"

"I _do_ dare." Puck shouted. "Deal with it." He closed the window fully then tilted his head back and completely drained the bottle of its contents.

Fuming, Quinn could do nothing more than watch him drive away.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> Originally, I was going to put the last two scenes in the next chapter, but then I figured, I might as well put the whole Saturday into this one so that it's done and over with.

Look out for the next chapter, where we'll FINALLY see Santana and McKinley meet again. ;) (and I think it's going to be pretty long, because I've got a long list of events that I want happening)

Also, (thank you, people who bother to read this shhstuff) I'm planning a scene involving the Troubletones Cheerios. Additionally, I just found out that there's a character who's performed with Troubletones but previously introduced herself as The Mack, together with The Skanks. I might incorporate her into the scene, too. And here's where I need y'all-

Who has suggestions for the names of the Cheerios?

Share them! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Brace yourselves, y'all! It's the long-awaited not-exactly-triumphant return!

Oh and for the record, I stalked Troubletones performances and scenes, the Run the World performance of Brittany and the It's Not Unusual performance of Blaine just to hunt down potential characters for this chapter. There, I picked out people who'd appeared a couple of times, gave them names and backgrounds and... well we'll see if I had any success in establishing them as characters.

(and I apologize for any typos I must've missed.)

Read on and lemme know what ya thought of the chapter :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

* * *

><p>Sunday came and went pretty much uneventfully. Mr. Pierce took all six of them out for breakfast (Emily had to sit on Rory's lap so they could fit in the car). Santana felt uneasy about having Brittany's parents pay for the food she ordered, and she wondered if Rory felt it too, or if he was used to it after staying with the Pierces for the past couple of months.<p>

After that, Santana helped Brittany design and make more campaign materials. That task demanded just enough concentration to keep the more upsetting thoughts out of Santana's mind.

Sunday _night_ was barely any different from its predecessors, still full of memories turned into nightmares. Santana had a feeling that the only reason she wasn't completely insane already was that Brittany would wake her up, and be a reminder that there was still at least one part of her life to be thankful for. If Brittany wasn't there to calm her down after every nightmare, whispering or singing softly until she went back to sleep, Santana would probably be steering clear of beds and abstaining from sleep for an indefinite period of time.

Monday morning… was just beginning, but already, Santana was filling little else but dread. Brittany would probably say it's just pessimism and it would be better to look on the bright side and believe that the day would turn out alright. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. To Santana, assuming that this day was going to turn out to be a disaster wasn't simply pessimism, it was realism.

The day had barely started, but it already was starting to look awful.

For one thing, Santana didn't have her backpack, leaving her with no choice but to borrow a bag from Brittany for now. This was okay… more or less. Brittany had no problem with it. But Santana also didn't have most of her school supplies. All the notes she'd taken in her notebooks, they were lying on a desk in the Lopez house right now, utterly abandoned. Her books were in her locker, at least.

Next was her outfit. In the rush to pack whatever she could grab, Santana failed to save a lot of her best clothes. What she was left with was an incredibly limited wardrobe which, regrettably, did not include her Cheerios uniform. Coach Sue would probably roast her for it.

Not that Santana would have been able to wear the uniform anyway. For the sake of drawing attention away from her knee, Santana opted to wear a comfortable pair of jeans. Her eye wasn't swelling anymore, and it only ever hurt if poked hard enough in certain areas. The color hadn't gone away, though. There were still blotches of purple and maroon. The solution would be to wear shades all day and ignore any teacher that might try to get her to take them off. To balance out the lameness of her overall outfit with some cool, Santana wore her Cheerios jacket.

"Santana, you ready?" Brittany asked just as she finished tying her hair in the required high ponytail.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Santana muttered, crouching down next to the duffel bag that had her remaining belongings. From it, she fished out some of the money she'd stashed at the bottom. Santana had counted it last night, and found that if she took a little every day to use as lunch money, it would last for about two months. Maybe three if she _really_ stretched it. Once that runs out, she would probably be screwed.

The thought of this only worsened Santana's already sour mood. How would she even finish the semester without any money? Not to mention making it outside of high school and finding a decent college.

A part-time job somewhere. Santana needed one ASAP. Otherwise… she might as well start practicing sleeping on newspapers in preparation for her wonderful future as a hobo.

Sensing Santana's distress with those baffling powers of sensitivity that only Brittany Pierce had, Britt touched Santana's shoulder. "I know it'll get better, San. We'll get through this."

Santana zipped the duffel bag closed and returned it to its spot under Brittany's bed. Having barely anything to call her own, limited money and no Cheerios uniform was unpleasant, to say the least. It made Santana feel vulnerable and pathetic- both of which she absolutely _hated_ being. Worries and fears constantly prowled around the edges of her consciousness, just waiting for her walls to show any hints of cracking.

"I hope so." She _did_ hope so. That was different from actually _believing_ so.

"C'mon, Santana." Brittany held Santana's hands. "I know Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are _totally_ dating, which is so a fact. Therefore, you can trust me when I say that I _know_ you're strong and tough and brave and you _will_ survive today."

Santana rolled her eyes but managed to smile, "You make it sound like I'm going to war or something."

"No, it's not a war…" Brittany shook her head seriously. "It's more like a journey where you're walking along a rainbow, and it's full of tarsiers trying to steal your unicorn horn because they think it'll make them look as cute and fluffy as koalas but you're too awesome for them that once they see you, they squeal and fall of the rainbow and land back in the forests where they came from. And if they don't, you just push them off the edge."

This time, Santana raised her eyebrow. "Okaaay… and do I have my bicorn behind me while I walk along Rainbow Road?"

To answer this question, Brittany kissed Santana full on the lips, completely took her breath away, then said, "Of course."

The fluttery sensation of being in a happy place with Brittany was enough to push back the anxieties and thicken the barriers that kept them at bay. At least for the time being. Santana grinned and let Brittany lead her out of the room and down the stairs, where Mrs. Pierce greeted them with a hug each.

Santana watched with a hint of bitterness as Mrs. Pierce gave Brittany money for the day and one more hug before nudging her daughter off in the direction of the front door, where Rory was already waiting. Though hugs and cuddles like that didn't really happen back in the Lopez house, not since the only child turned twelve, Santana realized that she _missed_ it.

What happened next came as a surprise to Santana, one she didn't really know how to react to. Mrs. Pierce pushed money into Santana's hands and said, "There you go. Be sure to eat well!"

Blinking, mouth agape, Santana tried to process what was going on and come up with the appropriate response. "I-I… you-wha-"

Mrs. Pierce seemed amused by Santana's reaction, or lack of it. "Did you honestly think I was going to let you starve today?"

"I… uh… _thank you_!" Santana finally choked out. She pocketed the cash while contrasting, conflicting emotions surged through her, of guilt and gratitude, joy and embarrassment, to name a few. "A-and I'll pay it back one day, I promise!"

Shaking her head, Mrs. Pierce embraced Santana. "You don't have to."

"I-I want to…" Santana insisted.

"If you say so… But it's no hurry." Mrs. Pierce let go and gave Santana the same nudge she gave Brittany, "Now get going before all three of you are late for your classes."

* * *

><p>Scanning her locker, Quinn made sure she wasn't going to forget anything before going to the Geography classroom for her first class of the day. Everything seemed to be in order. Quinn decided that she was ready and closed the locker door.<p>

"Hi, Quinn!"

Thoroughly startled to find Rachel Berry standing right there, Quinn jumped slightly and gasped, "Rachel!" Finn's girlfriend just nodded awkwardly in response. Not wanting to appear skittish, Quinn recovered quickly. "Don't ever sneak up on me like that again. What do you want?"

As of now, Quinn still didn't quite know just what Rachel's stand on the Santana situation was, given the fact that her beloved boyfriend was one of the causes. Since past experience has shown on countless occasions that Rachel would follow Finn to the edge of a cliff like mislead cattle, Quinn had to tread carefully when talking to her. If Rachel was going to try justifying Finn's crime, Quinn was not going to hear any of it.

"I was going to ask you if you were able to get Brittany on board with the… um… Santana Project." Rachel started out neutral, giving off the vibe that this was all-business, until she went casual and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Mr. Schue should stop giving us such random and/or personal weekly assignments." As if noticing that Quinn was glaring and about to leap to Santana's defense, Rachel hurriedly added, "And I _am_ concerned about Santana, really. And I wouldn't mind talking to her or giving her a hug as long as she doesn't bite my head off. But let's be realistic, Quinn."

Quinn decided that she might as well hear Rachel out. Maybe the issue bothering her wasn't directly related to Santana or Finn. Leaning her shoulder against the lockers, Quinn said, "Meaning?"

Encouraged by the fact that Quinn wasn't sending her away yet, Rachel continued, "We're supposed to be putting _all_ our effort into winning every competition this year. We have to take this seriously and spend _every_ waking moment rehearsing rehearsing _rehearsing._"

Berry kind of did have a point, Quinn had to admit that. Reluctantly, she nodded in agreement. "I guess… uhhuh."

"So the sooner this conflict finally reaches its imminent denouement, the sooner we can concentrate _completely_ on Sectionals. Which brings me back to my earlier question… have you talked to Brittany yet?"

Quinn glanced around, making sure that neither Brittany nor Santana were within earshot. "Not yet, I still have to get her alone." She didn't tell Rachel about how she had an opportunity last Saturday but blew it because her head had been buried too far deep into Puck-Beth-Shelby drama. "I will today." Quinn promised more to herself than to Rachel.

This should be the end of the conversation. There was nothing else to discuss. Quinn wasn't willing to dwell on her failure with someone as smug and self-absorbed as Rachel Berry. To show that she was done talking, Quinn nodded to Rachel and walked past her.

And she should have kept walking.

"Quinn."

Great. Quinn gritted her teeth and braced herself for an unpleasant chat revolving around how Quinn should have accomplished the task sooner and how this would affect the overall fate of New Directions, one way or another. "What, Rachel?" In an attempt to scare Rachel off with hostility, Quinn hissed the words over her shoulder.

"Are you…" Rachel walked over, placing herself in front of Quinn. "Quinn, are you alright?"

Well, that was unexpected. But it wasn't exactly warranted, either. "I'm fine." She lied.

Rachel looked like she was considering dropping the topic and going away. Quinn half hoped that she would, half hoped that she wouldn't. Quinn also wished that all these contrasting emotions and desires would stop pestering her, it was driving her crazy. The idea of coping with things the Puckerman way grew more and more tempting each day.

Moving even closer, Rachel seemed to be surveying Quinn. "You look… tired." She hesitated, as if she wasn't sure if she should continue. The pause didn't last long. Rachel decided to continue anyway. "Quinn, I know that our friendship is rocky and on-off at best, but… we _are_ kind of friends, right? And… and if there's anything that's been bothering you… I mean… if you need anyone to talk to…"

Sometimes Rachel was such a baffling person. One day, she's all over Finn, another day, she's all over herself. One day, she's the most annoying, obnoxious being on the planet that Quinn would want nothing more than to just shove a sock into her mouth and push her down a flight of stairs. And then another day, she would show a sensitive side that just shouldn't be possible from someone like her. Quinn remembered how Rachel had tried to talk her into rejoining New Directions at the start of the school year.

Discouraged by Quinn's silence, Rachel brought up her hands and started backing away, "A-and I'd understand if you don't want to share anything. I-I… I'll respect that."

And once again, Quinn missed out on a chance to share her distress with someone who was clearly willing to listen. "Er… thanks." Quinn tried smiling to show Rachel that she appreciated the concern, but it just felt forced. Too late now. Quinn walked off, at a brisk pace, without looking back.

* * *

><p>Santana was nervous. Brittany could see it in the tense way that she was walking, shoulders hunched, hands deep in her jacket pockets, and even if the shades shielded Santana's eyes, Brittany knew they were anxiously darting around the hallway. To Brittany, barely anyone seemed to really care that they were passing by. Minus the occasional student that would gawk at them obviously, people were generally minding their own business, focusing on getting to their classes.<p>

They stopped at their lockers, where they retrieved their copies of Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ for English. Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany spotted Finn walking down the hallway, his head and shoulders easily visible above most people's heads. The still-unfamiliar rush of anger came again. Brittany didn't want to make another scene, so she suppressed it.

Santana on the other hand, had a look on her face that showed just how much suppressing anger was the last thing on her mind. "There he is." Santana whispered, "I still think I should go all Lima Heights on him for what he did. And for what happened to your hand."

Brittany looked down at her hand, moving her fingers experimentally. Though the bruises had yet to fade, there was no more pain unless someone were to forcibly press her knuckles.

"He's almost here, Britt. I'm going for him."

Looking from the steadily coming closer Finn to the rapidly growing agitated Santana, Brittany knew she didn't want anyone to get hurt. "Santana, no." She said firmly, and hoped Santana would listen.

With clenched fists, Santana looked ready to lunge. Brittany braced herself. She was going to intervene if anything happened. Santana's nerves must be stretched taut at this time, Brittany understood that, and she knew that Santana's preferred coping method involved taking her frustrations out on other people. But this just wasn't the time or place.

The tense seconds that passed by felt like hours.

And thankfully, Santana didn't say or do anything as Finn passed by them without a word. "Fine." Visibly relaxing, Santana turned to lean her back against the lockers. "I didn't do anything. For you."

"Thank you." Brittany moved closer to Santana, "You did the right thing."

Santana shrugged, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "Was it? Kicking the hell out of him sounds more like the right thing to me."

"It's not worth it, San. You might get your shoes dirty."

This coaxed a smile and even a soft laugh out of Santana. "Good point, Britt."

Relieved that the worst was over, Brittany was able to return the smile. "Why do you always have to be so violent?"

"Oh please." Santana stood on the tips of her toes to whisper into Brittany's ear. "You and I both know that it turns you on." After saying this, she stepped back. Sometimes, it amazed Brittany how Santana could switch from mood to mood so quickly. This was just another one of those times, but it was still a moment she wasn't going to complain about. Better to have Santana being playful than Santana out for blood.

"And what exactly gave you that idea?" Brittany raised an eyebrow and took a step towards Santana, shrinking the distance between them.

"Maybe it was Lord Tubbington." Santana tilted her head downwards so that Brittany could see the brown eyes peeking over the rims of the shades. The sight caused her to feel warmth rushing to her cheeks while her stomach performed several pirouettes.

Brittany was just about to respond and instead got a face and a mouth full of slushie.

"Ooohh! My slushie aim's awesome, got it right into your mouth!" This proud exclamation was accompanied by barks of approval that Brittany immediately recognized was the hockey team's. "And we nailed the timing too, got 'em both at the same time."

Wiping the freezing gunk out of her eyes while trying not to choke on what had made its way down her throat, Brittany checked on Santana. Her face, shades and part of her jacket were stained blue. What was troubling was the fact that instead of fuming and attacking, Santana was frozen in place.

"You should just drop outta the contest," Rick the Stick spoke to Brittany while gesturing with his hands, "Because I'mma win and be the school president while you can hide in the janitor's closet and be a couple of losers and lesbos." On cue, the rest of the hockey jocks cheered and hooted in agreement.

Brittany cast a sideways glance at Santana. She normally would have retaliated by now, with either physical or verbal blows, or a combination of the two. Instead, she still wasn't moving a muscle. And she didn't look like she was going to take action any time soon. This was something Brittany herself had to deal with, and as quickly as possible so that she could attend to Santana after.

"Go away." That was lame. Brittany knew she had to do better than that.

"Ooohh." The hockey team exchanged smirks and inched closer, effectively surrounding Brittany and Santana. "Ya hear that, Stick? She's telling you what to do."

"Leave us alone, okay?" This time, she was able to speak with more force, and followed it up with a step towards Rick. "Now."

Amid the unruly noise of his team, Rick leaned forward, an arrogant smirk plastered to his face. "Make me."

Brittany resisted the compulsion to lean away. "A-an ogre lives in my backyard and I could order him to eat you."

The hockey player's smirk only grew wider. "Not working." Brittany nearly felt like slapping him, and herself. Rick's behavior was insufferable, and the fact that Brittany could barely communicate to him how she felt just added to the mounting frustration.

"Get your frozen asses out of our sight." Saving Brittany from her struggle to come up with something to say, Santana's defense system finally kicked in, and she leaped into action. Despite having the admittedly comical appearance of someone with slushie dripping from her face and hair and staining her shades, Santana still managed to sound threatening with just voice and posture. "Each one of you's taken way too many hockey pucks to the head or whatever it is you children do when you twirl around on ice, because only brain-damaged freaks would be wearing those furry rags on their heads and believing that mullets are still cool." For each step that Santana took forward, Rick took a step back. "And by the way, I'm pretty sure that only an insecure douche with just an inch of length between his legs would strut around calling himself The Stick to compensate for his undersized little buddy. Now I'm getting bored talking, so you best _get out of my sight_ befores I ends you. And by ends you, I mean I'll use the razor blades in my hair to cut you and you junior."

The verbal assault had definitely affected Rick. He shrank back, mouth opening and closing mutely. For once, the hockey team was silent.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class. The jocks dispersed, leaving Rick, who went from gaping like a fish to glaring angrily. "You're going to get it, lesbo bitch." After having said that, he ran down the corridor and out of sight.

Breathing heavily as if the battle of words had been as draining as a physical fight, Santana pulled off the shades and started wiping them with a handkerchief. Brittany instantly noticed that her eyes were slightly tinted with pink. "Screw him." Santana said with a combination of anger and pain in her voice. "Screw him and the rest of those creeps."

Out of nowhere, another torrent of slushie washed over Santana, directly hitting the top of her head and oozing down her hair. The red gunk clashed against the blue that was there first.

The deep, rumbling laughter of Azimio came from behind Brittany. She spun around to face him and give him a piece of her mind, but he was already running off, his voice bouncing off of the lockers along the deserted corridor.

* * *

><p>Quinn took the seat that Tina and Mike had saved for her and tried to push away the issues that had been plaguing her mind all weekend. It was bad enough that they were messing with her emotions and maybe her <em>sanity<em>, too. She didn't want them to mess with her studies next.

Geography. Focus on geography.

Just when Quinn was _finally_ starting to succeed at concentrating on the task at hand, a new distraction presented itself in the form of someone walking into the classroom.

* * *

><p>She was right. Today was going to be a <em>bad<em> day. Bad was an understatement, really. This was _worse_ than bad. Bad was puppy chewed on the corner of your notebook. This is more like being mauled by a frickin' bear bad. Santana angrily paced from one end of the girl's washroom to the other, occasionally pausing to kick or punch the stall doors. She relished the sound of the loud bang that echoed every time the doors slammed into their frames.

First and foremost, Santana was terrified of the mere idea of going back out there and getting to class. She was dreading the looks and the stares, the inevitable flood of gossip. She was afraid of having to face anymore slushie-wielding jocks. The overpowering fear was what compelled her to lock the door and stay here, hidden and more or less safe.

Next, she was angry. Angry at the school for not being able to do anything to make this a safer place for people like herself and Brittany and Lady Face and his Midget. Angry at the jocks for the slushie facial they gave Brittany. Angry at the jocks for slushie-ing her, Santana Lopez, even when they knew she was the top cheerleader and should therefore be untouchable. Angry at herself for not being able to get out and beat the shit out of them. Angry at herself for hiding here like a coward. Angry at herself for being so fucking _afraid_.

With a sigh, Santana leaned against the sink and looked at Brittany's reflection. Another one of the emotions dominating the jumbled mess Santana felt right now was guilt. It was common knowledge between them that their moods were tied so closely, it would be near impossible for one to be happy when the other isn't. Santana knew that the depression, anxiety and rage she'd been battling with for the past several days were affecting Brittany, too.

Brittany was sitting at the far corner, brushing her soaked hair. Several cycles of rinsing were what it took to finally get all the slushie off. Santana still had hints of red and blue in her own hair, and touching it still left her fingers feeling a little sticky. But at least Brittany was as cleaned up as she could ever be. Nothing could be done with her stained uniform at this point.

"Don't you wanna go ahead?" Santana asked, "If you stay here any longer, you're going to miss out on important stuff that might later pop up in a test or whatever…"

Still continuing to brush her hair with long, consistent strokes, Brittany answered matter-of-factly. "Not without you."

Santana looked away from Brittany and kept her gaze on the sink. It was sweet of Brittany to stay here with her, it really was. But it wasn't like Brittany was swimming in A's and could afford to miss class. "I don't feel like going out there yet." She whispered, hating having to admit it, hating that _fear_ was the root of it.

Footsteps behind her, movement out of the corner of her eye and an arm brushing against hers were how Santana didn't have to look up to know that Brittany had gone to stand next to her. "Do you want to leave?"

"As in skip school?" Santana raised an eyebrow and this time glanced at Brittany. "You're really up to that?" The idea was tempting, and Santana enjoyed the thought of getting far away from this place and be somewhere she could be near as possible to Brittany.

The way Brittany bit her lip and shifted her weight from foot to foot was a clear enough sign that she didn't feel the same way about the idea. Cutting class wasn't a foreign activity to them. They used to sneak out all the time. But ever since the start of their senior year, they'd been putting in more effort to stay in school. Brittany knew she had to really work on her grades now more than ever. Santana understood why she might not feel comfortable with the idea.

"Not… not really, to be honest." Brittany admitted, "But if it'll help you feel better, then I guess we could give it a try."

Torn between wanting to put a huge amount of distance between herself and this hellhole and not wanting to make Brittany do anything she wasn't comfortable with, Santana didn't answer right away, returning her gaze to the sink. If she looked closely enough, she could see the pale bluish streaks left over from when she'd cleaned herself up. Or at least… _sort of _cleaned up. Her hair still needed some work and her face might look more natural after a little more scrubbing since it had a tinge of purple at certain angles.

"We could go to the mall…" Brittany suggested. The reluctance wasn't obvious in Brittany's light tone, and Santana would have missed it if she hadn't been paying close attention. "Or maybe see a movie."

"Or we could stay in school." Santana stopped Brittany from listing even more reluctant suggestions. She pictured herself washing up one more time, doing what she could with her hair and approaching the door. She saw herself unlock the door, turn the knob and walk out, head held high. She imagined going to class and getting her work done.

The fear came at her with renewed force.

"Or… I don't know. Maybe we can camp out here today."

"Santana, do you really want to spend all day in here?" Brittany asked.

"Why not?" Santana avoided Brittany's gaze because she knew that those piercing blue eyes would see right through her and know that she was aware of just how stupid the idea really was.

"We'd miss out on Troubletones rehearsals."

Well, that was actually a good point. If there was anything at all that she could look forward to today (besides hanging out with Brittany), it was singing in the choir room. There was always something therapeutic about it.

"They'll survive one more rehearsal without me."

"Do you _really_ want to miss it?"

There was no getting around this, and Santana didn't want to lie to Brittany. With a sigh, Santana met Brittany's eyes and admitted the truth, "No."

Brittany didn't seem at all surprised by this answer, and she pressed on to say, "Then why don't we get through the day by looking forward to that?" Pausing, Brittany put on the face she usually had when she was thinking- and about to come up with something brilliant or brilliantly touching. She tilted her head slightly, while her eyes looked to the upper right and her lips pinched into a shape almost like a lopsided smile. It remained for only a brief moment, and was quickly gone, but Santana recognized it. "Think of it as… as a reward for yourself. For being brave enough to go back out there."

"What if I'm _not_ brave enough?"

The way Brittany's eyes seemed to bring forth a rush of sensations about as well as a physical touch like a kiss or a hug- better, even- made Santana feel close and connected to her and less alone. The fear and pain Santana kept hidden behind sharp barbs of anger were never too hard for Brittany to find. "You might not believe in yourself, Santana… but _I_ believe in you."

Santana stayed absolutely still, afraid of breaking the contact. "Hiding here… that's like letting them _win_." Brittany didn't waver in the way she spoke or the way she kept their eyes locked on each other. "I know you won't do that, Santana. I know you're way stronger than that."

The answers to questions she couldn't ask, the confirmation and encouragement she needed, Santana found them in blue depths that hid the wisdom barely anyone else ever took the time to really see. It reminded Santana of the disastrous prom night, when the horror of losing had stabbed at her, but Brittany helped her find the strength to go back and face the crowd and offer support to Kurt. It reminded her of all the agony she went through last year, watching Brittany and Artie together and wanting to tear apart everything in sight. Despite the constant urge to drink and smoke her way through it all, and the occasional temptation to off herself, Santana had survived that.

The past several days have been hell… but Brittany was right. Santana just had to keep her head up and get through it. And she only had to look to her side to remember that she wasn't alone.

* * *

><p>Quinn left the classroom with an even worse headache than before she'd entered, drowning in the widest variety of thoughts she'd never previously deemed possible. Joining the current of the crowd walking along the hallway, Quinn wondered how she was going to find Brittany, whether or not she should seek out Shelby, and what she was supposed to feel about the person who'd just joined the class this morning.<p>

As if to answer one of her questions, Ms. Corcoran passed by Quinn, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. The Troubletones director was heading in the direction of the faculty lounge. Would she be accommodating if Quinn asked to speak to her? Or would she be cold and uncooperative? Quinn was just working up the nerve to follow the teacher when Brittany came into view, just at the other side of the hallway.

Quinn watched her hug Santana before walking down the hall. Santana lingered by their lockers for a moment before she, too, walked away, going the opposite direction. Brittany was getting farther and farther, while Ms. Corcoran was already out of sight. Who should she speak to first? Talking to Ms. Corcoran was more for Quinn's own sake than anyone else's. (except maybe Beth). Talking to Brittany… that was more for the sake of Brittany herself… as well as Santana.

Groaning to herself, Quinn went after Brittany.

* * *

><p>As she neared Coach Sylvester's office, Brittany struggled to figure out how she was going to convincingly word the request she wanted to make. It had to come out just right. Brittany should be clear that she was doing it for Santana, but not in a way that left Santana looking like someone who didn't have the guts to do this herself. (Santana had no idea after all) Additionally, Brittany <em>had<em> to make sure that the necessity of this was unquestionable.

Steeling herself for the inevitable hardship sure to come, given the nature of one Sue Sylvester, Brittany took a deep breath and lifted her left hand to knock on the door.

"Britt!" Before her knuckles could even meet with the wood, someone called her name. Brittany turned around to see Quinn running over to her. Curious, Brittany stepped away from Coach Sylvester's office.

"Hi, Quinn!" Brittany greeted her.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Most conversations usually take longer than just a second, but okay."

"True." Quinn reacted to the joke with a slight smile and a roll of her eyes. "So anyway… I hope I'm not… interrupting anything…" Brittany saw Quinn glance hesitantly at the nameplate on the office door. "I mean if-"

"I was going to ask Coach Sylvester for a new uniform for Santana." Brittany spoke honestly, seeing as there was nothing to lose in telling Quinn the truth. Maybe she could even help Brittany convince the cranky Cheerios coach.

Quinn raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised to hear this. "Oh? What for?"

Casting a quick glance down both ends of the corridor, Brittany toyed with the idea of just making up some excuse like a pack of elves stole the uniform because they were poor and needed supplies after they lost a war to the rival leprechauns. Eventually, she decided to tell the truth. "San's was left at the Lopez house."

"Oh…" Sympathy flashed in Quinn's eyes as she looked downwards. Brittany wasn't sure what to say next, and judging by the way Quinn didn't look like she was going to speak any time soon, she probably didn't know what to say either.

An uneasy silence passed between them.

"Do you think…" Quinn was the first to break it, albeit with notes of hesitance and uncertainty. "Do you think it'll ever… work out between them?"

If by '_them'_, Quinn meant Santana's parents and Santana, Brittany wasn't comfortable about making any assumptions, given what had happened the last time she did. Though Santana's parents weren't quite the warmest people Brittany had ever met, she never _ever_ imagined them capable of doing this. How the two people who raised and supposedly loved someone as amazing as Santana could just throw her out like that and _hurt_ her… Brittany just couldn't understand it. Refused to understand it.

It made her feel… _angry_.

Realizing that she had yet to say something in response to Quinn's question, Brittany said, "I don't know, Quinn." Then in a stronger tone, she added, "But it would take _a lot_ of effort if they ever wanna make it up to Santana."

Quinn nodded in agreement, let another silent pause pass over them, then said, "So… um… remember the other day when I said that we've talked about Santana in glee?"

Brittany nodded quietly, not sure where this was going. Though she liked to think positively, and she would have liked to remind herself that the people in New Directions (with Finn as an exception) weren't angry with Santana… this morning's events made Brittany a little more guarded than she would have otherwise been. The patience and optimism Brittany was known for had its limits, and the past several days were stretching it _very_ taut. Brittany prepared herself to hear the worst.

"We were kind of hoping… if…"

"If what?" Brittany said softly, trying not to sound frustrated, but also trying to show that she didn't really appreciate the suspense. Quinn's tense intro was pushing her further and further towards the edge and it was becoming nerve-wracking. Was Finn rallying the New Directions to further confront Santana for last week's bad behavior?

"If you could help us out with this week's assignment?" Quinn finally let it out, in a rush of words nearly tripping and tumbling all over each other.

Brittany tilted her head slightly to the left, not sure what to make of this. "Er… okay…"

* * *

><p>Class was relatively uneventful. Two or three people were caught looking at her the wrong way, and she verbally battered them until they were whiter the Kurt's forehead and more wide-eyed than Mrs. Pillsbury. After that, every single student in the room stayed still and silent, even when asked by the teacher to speak. One could almost hear the collective battering of nervous heartbeats. And once they were dismissed, the sigh of relief that came from the class was almost an audible rush of wind.<p>

Glad to be out of there and looking forward to seeing Brittany again, Santana rushed out, the crowd parting to make way for her.

Coming up next was the reward Brittany told her to look forward to- Troubletones. and Santana really _was_ looking forward to singing and performing with Brittany and Mercedes. It would be the highlight of this miserable, crappy day.

Still, Santana felt a little apprehensive. Though Brittany said that they had the support of everyone in the Troubletones, Santana wasn't so sure. She thought about the six members they'd recently recruited. Five of them were Cheerios, one of them was a Skank. Naturally, her trust in them was severely limited.

The Skank, who preferred to be called _'The Mack'_, Santana still didn't know what to make of her. Her behavior towards Brittany and Santana was… something that could be classified as nice- if it was compared to the way she was known to treat other people. The Mack was infamous for bullying freshmen and sophomores, shoplifting, fighting… among other things. Santana _had_ to admit that _maybe_ there were some similarities between them. But in no way did it indicate that they should get a long as friends. Santana doubted the sincerity behind Mack's civility towards herself and Brittany. There must be a catch, and Santana was just waiting for it to come into play.

Four out of the five Cheerios who accepted Santana and Brittany's invitation (and _maybe_ a threat or two) were okay. Two were quiet and barely ever spoke. They pretty much just went along with whatever and didn't talk much. Santana couldn't remember their names and found them really boring.

The other two were loyal undergrads; pretty much puppies that would do anything and everything Brittany and Santana would ask them. Amanda was totally Brittany's fan-girl. The blond kid always had her abnormally spaced eyes locked on Brittany, hanging onto her every word. She was friends with a brunette named Susan, who was Santana's loyal minion. Susan had been a lot of help during the piano-burning plot, Brittany's Run the World performance and Troubletones recruitment. The last time they communicated, Susan had mentioned at least two more potential members, which was great news considering the twelve-member requirement. The obedient duo was harmless, posed no threat to Santana and was proven useful on several occasions. Santana didn't trust them (they voted for Mercedes to be the Troubletones captain, after all) but she approved of them, more or less.

The fifth Cheerio… she was becoming troublesome. Bethany Bennet had started out quiet and complacent, but steadily, she grew more and more arrogant. It irritated Santana how she had the guts to snap back or negatively comment on other people's performances during rehearsals. Her bleached blond hair and sassy mouth irritated Santana.

And then Sugar was… Sugar. At first, she'd been annoying as hell, but lately she was acting more and more mellow. Her rich bitch attitude, whenever it would show up again, was usually directed at New Directions members.

So basically, there was: The Mack the… Skank; the two Bores; Amanda and Susan the Minions; Sugar the… Sugar and then Bethany Bleachhead Bitch.

_Try to be like Britt and think positively. No one's going to attack you or make a big deal out of the whole gay thing_. Santana tried to tell herself, but didn't receive much success. So instead, she focused on the fun she was going to have singing it out with Brittany and Mercedes.

"Hi, Santana, ma'am!" Speaking of which, Santana's little brunette crony came scurrying over. The girl looked Santana up and down in a way that made Santana feel conscious and uneasy.

"What?" Santana snapped defensively.

Shaking her head, Susan lowered her eyes, "I-I just wondered why you weren't in uniform."

Damn it, that was the question she wanted to avoid today. Santana thought she was going to get away with it, but apparently not. "Coach Sylvester excused me from wearing it today." It was a crappy lie, but Santana couldn't think of anything else, put on the spot like this.

"What're those stains on your jacket?"

Where were all these questions coming from? The fact that Santana couldn't come up with any believable excuses that wouldn't threaten to downgrade her power was infuriating. After losing so much lately, Santana had grown even more desperate to maintain her supremacy, despite the clear signs that told her the status quo was crumbling little by little. "I'm not taking anymore questions from you, so shut up." Santana leaned forward in an effort to look as threatening as possible.

Susan's brow furrowed as she leaned back. "The shades look good on you, ma'am."

That sounded a lot better. Santana smirked, "That's better, freshman." She continued walking towards the choir room, not looking to see if the subordinate Cheerio was following.

"I'm a sophomore."

She was? Maybe it was just Brittany's pet Amanda that was the freshman. Santana wasn't sure. Either way, what mattered more was that they did what they were told.

The sound of footsteps reassured Santana that Susan was walking slightly beside, mostly behind her- the designated position. "Oh, and Amanda and I saw future-President Brittany today. We distributed the flyers and put the posters in every bathroom stall like she asked." Santana wordlessly made a small nod of approval while Susan went on with the report. "And I mean _every_ stall. Working in the boy's restrooms was gross. It smelled _really_ bad."

"As long as you were successful." Santana said in a neutral tone that hid the soothing feeling she got from getting back into a familiar setting. Strutting down a hallway with a Cheerio at her side reporting on successfully carried out orders- Santana could almost forget that she was slushied this morning or that she was wearing jeans instead of the Cheerios uniform… or that she was…

The familiarity of this was comforting. That was it.

"Fill me in on what else I've missed."

* * *

><p>Shelby Corcoran was on her way to Troubletones rehearsals. Quinn should have been on her way to New Directions rehearsals.<p>

Instead, Quinn was walking a few paces behind Shelby and going through an internal battle of indecision. The last time they talked to each other, Quinn had gotten a harsh string of words that would _not_ stop following her. No matter what she did. And… as excruciatingly difficult it was for Quinn to admit it… maybe Ms. Corcoran was right. At least partially.

What if that was just going to happen again? What if Quinn would be left with nothing less than a new batch of distressing thoughts and concepts to harass her mind day and night?

But a strong part of her just… _really_ wanted to talk about this again. She wanted to find out what happened with Puck, to know how Beth was, to hear about the newest things Beth was learning to do… maybe to even apologize to Shelby…

"Ms. Corcoran!" Quinn called out, and then froze. The urge to turn around and run away nearly overwhelmed her. Part of her started praying to the good Lord that Shelby would just keep walking and ignore her. Maybe this was just a really _really_ bad idea. Quinn wasn't sure if she was ready for this.

Ms. Corcoran stopped and turned around with what looked like a friendly, accommodating expression. It vanished the moment she realized that the speaker was Quinn. The coldness in her eyes frightened Quinn enough that she almost did bolt down the hallway. What stopped her was the mere fact that her body shut down and refused to listen to her mind's instructions.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence felt like torture.

Were they going to both just stand here staring at each other, saying nothing? The thought of it did _not_ appeal to Quinn in the slightest. But neither did the prospect of Ms. Corcoran walking away before Quinn could ask for another chance. It was now or never. Quinn _had_ to say something.

Swallowing dryly, Quinn tried to speak, but no sound came out. Ms. Corcoran opened her mouth to speak, then as if she changed her mind, she closed it.

_God, why is this so hard?_ Quinn forced herself to try again. "I… I…" The words just kept getting stuck in her throat, refusing to go all the way out. Quinn licked her lips and gave it one more try. If she screwed this up, she was going to run away. "About… about what you s-said that night…"

Ms. Corcoran's stony expression betrayed nothing.

"I… I'm…" Quinn wished the ground would just open up and swallow her. This situation was frustrating, agonizing and humiliating. _What have I gotten myself into?_ "May I please have another chance?" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Quinn wasn't sure if it could even be heard by anyone but herself.

"You had your chance." She heard it.

"Please?" Quinn found herself reduced to pleading.

The response was a shake of the head accompanied by an unsympathetic verbal answer, "You already had a second chance, Quinn. What you did with it isn't my fault." Ending the conversation, Ms. Corcoran turned her back on Quinn. "I have to go to my glee club now."

She was walking away. _She was walking away_. Desperately grasping for threads of hope that obviously weren't there, Quinn yelled, "I-I'm sorry!" Sorry she neglected valuable, meaningful friendships. Sorry she destroyed the trust of the woman who was raising her child. Sorry she let her view of the world be so distorted. Sorry she was being a terrible human being instead of the good person her perfect child deserved. Sorry she let her fears of the future and regrets of the past destroy what she had in the present. "I was wrong!"

Shelby Corcoran did not look back.

* * *

><p>When Santana walked into the choir room, she was instantly greeted by three voices happily calling out her name. It was more than what she expected and prepared herself for. A pleasant surprise. Brittany, of course, was the first to welcome Santana with a hug that quite literally lifted her off her feet took her breath away.<p>

It didn't stop there. Brittany went so far as to twirl in a circle before putting Santana down. "Wow, Britt. You're acting like we didn't just talk to each other this morning." _And like I haven't been sleeping next to you for the past four nights._

"I'm just really happy to see you." Brittany beamed, still embracing Santana. "And seeing you in the choir room again is like seeing quadruple rainbows!"

Santana just barely held back the giggle that tried to make its way out of her. "I've only missed like one rehearsal, haven't I?"

Mercedes turned it into a group hug, wrapping her arms around them both. "And one is plenty. It was _way_ too quiet in here without your brutally honest comments."

"You know I like keepin' it real, Wheezy."

"I missed you too!" Sugar joined in.

Awkwardly, Santana patted the girl's head. "Hi."

"Quit it already, y'all are making me wanna barf out the one meal I had today." Unsurprisingly, Bleach could be counted upon to ruin the moment. The four of them broke apart from the hug to look at the Cheerio. Sitting on a chair at the other end of the room, using another chair as a footstool, she was looking like she owned the place. The way Bleachhead was critically glaring at them made Santana want to throttle her.

"You're just-" Sugar was saying something to Bleach, but was cut off by the entrance of Shelby.

"Hello, girls. Sorry I'm late." Shelby paused to nod at Santana, "It's good to see you in our choir room again. We missed you last Friday." Hearing this Santana's brewing irritation. It was a pleasant change to have a director who acted like she actually was a little fond of Santana. Mr. Schue was always a little off and awkward towards her. Not to mention how he kicked her out of his club at the start of the year.

"Yaaay, Santana's baaaack." Bleach clapped sarcastically. Santana was moving closer to Brittany before she even realized what she was doing. The feel of Brittany's shoulder against hers was reassuring. "Can I ask a question though?" As if seeking permission to speak during a class, Bleach raised a hand.

What the hell did she want? Santana was dreading it already, but she knew better than to back down and show any sign of vulnerability. Preparing her defenses, Santana snapped her reply. "What?"

"Where'd your uniform go? Were you kicked off the Cheerios or something?"

Feeling fingers stroking the back of her hand, Santana realized it was Brittany offering her pinky. Santana accepted it, finding security in the pinky link. "The chemicals you scrub all over your head must've gotten to your brain, Bleachhead. I'm still in the Cheerios and still your captain."

Putting on a disinterested expression, Bleach started inspecting her nails. "Sometimes I wonder what counts as popular and right in this school these days. I mean c'mon, we got a retarded freak and… _you_ as the co-captains of the cheerleaders. It's just… _wrong_."

That… _stung_. Santana swallowed hard and tried to come up with an appropriately biting comeback because the bitch _really_ needed to be reminded of her place. She had no business questioning how right it was for Santana to be the head cheerleader. She had no right to encourage the doubts and fears Santana kept pushing back and locking away. Bethany Bleachhead Bennet was going to choke back what she said. Santana was going to make sure of that.

But…

Nothing was coming to her. Both her body and her mind were freezing up.

Mr. and Mrs. Lopez were banging against the mental barrier, trying to get out.

"There's nothing wrong with Santana and you're being really mean to Becky." Brittany said defensively, using the dangerously soft, low voice she used whenever her anger or irritation was provoked.

"Lay off Santana, she earned her spot." Mercedes, too, defended Santana.

"Okay, stop. Just stop." Lifting her palms and shaking her head, Shelby exerted her authority as a teacher. The disapproval was clearly audible in her tone. "We're here to _rehearse_, not pick fights with each other." The Troubletones director put in the effort to make eye contact with each and every member in the room. "Is that clear?"

They all nodded, but Santana felt like the eyes of every Cheerio in this room, minus Brittany, was glaring at her and mentally criticizing her. The compulsion to lash out and insult everyone in this room grew nearly impossible to resist.

The only thing holding her back was Brittany's pinky.

* * *

><p>When Shelby first entered the room and gave off a vibe that something was wrong, Brittany thought it was just her imagination or she was reading too much into things again. But as things progressed, it just became clearer and clearer. There was just something… <em>off<em> about the way their director was leading them today. She seemed distracted as they went through the vocal warm-ups, and when they started brainstorming for possible songs to perform at Sectionals, Shelby barely had anything to say. It was completely different from when they were talking about last week's Mash-Off, when Shelby had countless suggestions and insights, all given with a patient, encouraging tone.

Brittany wasn't sure how to reach out to Shelby though, since they didn't often speak to each other outside of the Troubletones choir room. So instead, she focused on someone she _could_ help. Though Santana wasn't outwardly showing it, snappily turning down less sensible suggestions in her usual way, Brittany knew that the confrontation had left Santana shaken and scared.

Bethany Bennet, usually addressed as Bennet, (Brittany preferred that, since Bethany sounded too similar to Brittany) was quiet now. She seemed content to let the other members do the talking, for which Brittany was thankful.

Hopefully nothing else would go wrong in this meeting. She knew very well that Santana was having an incredibly horrible day, and Brittany wished with all her heart that it would at least end on a happy note.

"I was thinking… since we nailed our Adele mash-up, how 'bout we work on another one?" Mercedes said after Santana shot down an unknown song by an unknown artist suggested by Sugar, who just wouldn't stop giving them names they'd never ever heard of.

"You mean another Adele song or another mash-up or another Adele mash-up?" Brittany asked, trying to clarify.

Then the Mack arrived, charging into the room and skidding to a halt in front of them. "Yo! I'm here!"

"Dude, you're late." Bennet said bluntly, and with a hint of menace. It was the first thing she'd said since the start of the vocal warm-ups. Brittany wished that she wasn't going to start picking on Santana after dealing with the Mack.

Mack shrugged nonchalantly. "I had to deal with a kid who looked at me wrong." The excuse was met with an awkward silence as Mack grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the piano.

"So beating people up is more important to you than _this_?" Santana broke the silence with her viciousness. A look of surprise showed up on Mack's face, which she quickly covered up with a cold glare. "Coz y'know, this club only has room for people who're really _dedicated_ to it." Brittany feared that this was only going to get worse. As much as she agreed with Santana, she didn't think that now was an ideal time for getting into conflict.

Brittany watched Mack clench her fists and lean forward in her seat. "Seriously, are you threatening to kick me out?" The way she spoke wasn't a hostile yell, but more of an icy challenge.

"Who are you to go around talking like that?" Bennet rounded on Santana, "Jones is the captain here, isn't she? And Ms. Corcoran's the director. Kicking Skanky out is _their_ call."

Brittany felt Santana grow tense next to her.

"Girls, calm down, all of you." Shelby tried to soothe the situation, looking from Santana to Bennet to Mack. Again, Brittany got the feeling that something was wrong and their director's patience was running _very_ thin at this point. "We're all on the same team here."

"Santana isn't." Bethany accompanied what she said with something that sounded like a snicker.

That was a foul blow. Brittany frowned and was about to speak up when Santana beat her to it. "No one asked for your opinion, Bleachhead." Despite the firm harshness of Santana's voice, Brittany could see that the girl was crumbling on the inside. The way she was leaning against Brittany and starting to tremble was a clear indication. The urge to hug her girlfriend was becoming harder and harder to resist, even if she had a feeling that Santana might not like it at this time, with everyone in the room watching so tensely.

"Er… about the whole… other team thing…" Brittany turned her head to face the speaker, Amanda, who was leaning against the piano, positioned between Brittany and Susan. The girl spoke with all signs of uncertainty, her eyes constantly darting from Santana to the floor. "Has that been like… since forever?" With a guilty glance at Brittany, she hurriedly added, "B-but you don't have to answer that i-if you don't want to."

"It's none of your business." Santana snapped, tightening her hold on Brittany's pinky.

"It kind of is." Bennet was talking again. Brittany imagined that a hippogriff would swoop in, grab Bennet by her pale hair and fly away to some remote, cold mountain where she could be frozen into an ice sculpture and never move or speak again. "I mean, it's kinda disturbing if it turns out you've been checking our asses out like all this time."

A soft sniff came from Santana, which only Brittany heard. The trembling was growing stronger, the pinky link getting tighter. "No offense to you and your papery hair—wait, actually, I do mean offense. Your ass is just _not_ worth _anyone's_ time. Any person, guy or girl will find shrubs hotter than you." Still, Santana's voice didn't betray anything she was _really_ feeling.

"Bennet, shut your mouth before I go over there and shut it for you." Mercedes threatened.

"Enough!" Shelby raised her voice and stood up. Brittany couldn't recall seeing her this angry before.

"Santana, the people I invited over are here." During the height of the conflict with Bennet, Susan must have headed for the door while everyone was distracted. Now, she had their attention, even Shelby's. Something about the way she made her announcement filled Brittany with dread, and she didn't know why. She tried to assume it was just paranoia encouraged by awful recent events, but it was a feeling she just couldn't shake off.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany noticed Santana push the shades further up the bridge of her nose. "Wow, you got us new members already? Awesome!" To anyone else, Santana might have sounded excited, but to Brittany, she sounded nervous, the happy tone tight and forced.

"Whoa, member_s_?" Mack sounded impressed, "I'm surprised a kid like you could convince _anyone_ to join a silly little singing group."

"I still wonder why you're here." Bennet said.

Susan ignored Mack and Bennet, addressing Santana directly. "Santana, _ma'am_, do I let them in now?" Something was _very_ wrong. Brittany didn't know exactly _what_. She just had the _worst_ feeling about this. Hopefully, it was just all in her head.

Hopefully.

Santana nodded.

Brittany watched as Susan gestured for her guests to enter, and wasn't sure what to think when they revealed themselves to be Cheerios. There were five, and Brittany recognized the girls as all being the ones at the bottom of the pyramid. Maybe that was a good thing. The glee clubs in McKinley usually offered sanctuary to anyone and everyone who felt alone or undervalued. It was possible these girls felt that way since they were the ones with the difficult, hardly appreciated task of keeping everyone else up.

"Wow…" Shelby clasped her hands together, "Girls, welcome to-"

"Can it, we're just here to talk to Lopez." One of the Cheerios interrupted Shelby. Brittany tried to remember her name, but the search came up unsuccessful. "Is it true?"

Brittany felt that the trembling was getting even worse. She was pretty sure that Santana wouldn't have been able to stand if Brittany and the piano weren't supporting her weight. "So what if it is?" Though Santana still sounded strong, Brittany noticed her voice starting to waver.

"Then we got a problem with that."

"We're not comfortable having you around us during training, and especially in the locker rooms."

"Deal with it." Santana refused to let them win, but the effort was taking its toll on her. "Get out of my choir room."

This was turning out so horribly. Brittany wanted to speak up, yell at the girls for being so narrow-minded, wanted to rush over and shake some sense into them. She had to do something. _Anything_. But at this point, she could only gape at them in horror, her grasp on speech completely gone.

"We want you off the Cheerios."

"You're a _freak_. It'll look bad for you to be our captain. We've already got that weirdo Becky, and now it turns out you really _are_ gay. When it was going around last year that you might be, we thought that curly-haired kid was just trying to screw with you in his article."

"I don't even wanna think about what you and Brittany do when no one's around. Ugh!"

Santana spoke up before any of them could say more. "Leave. Brittany. Out. Of. This." Each word was individually emphasized through Santana's gritted teeth, delivered in the most menacing tone Brittany had ever heard. "I worked my fucking hardest to get to where I am now, and I'm not letting your shitty, worthless opinions take this away from me." How much longer could Santana keep this up? Brittany wished it could just end right now and they could curl up on the sofa together and watch movies until everything that happened was forgotten.

"And _you_." Santana's head jerked in Susan's direction. "What the fucking hell were you thinking?"

"I was _thinking_," The way Susan was behaving now was baffling. It was like looking at another person. The change here was even worse than Rory's sudden outburst of anger several days ago. This could _not_ be happening. "…that having a lesbian as the head Cheerio was _disgusting_. And dammit, I hated how you kept pushing me around and acting like you're better than everyone else when the truth was that you're some gross gay creep."

The Cheerios inched forward with each biting sentence until they practically surrounded the piano. Brittany still couldn't believe this was happening. After everything Santana had gone through, there was _this_ now… Could it all just be a nightmare? Brittany wished it was, because helplessly watching this unfold, with her body immobile and unusable… this couldn't be real.

"And we're not the only ones who think so. A lot of the other Cheerios want you to quit being gay or quit being a cheerleader."

"And a lot of us think that if you decide to stay gay, you should take your fuck buddy with you when you quit."

"Y-you think this was a _choice_?" Now, it was choked out. Santana's thick, high walls were slowly shattering. Brittany's frozen, unresponsive body kept her from wrapping her arms around Santana and defending her.

Ignoring Santana, Susan addressed Amanda. "I'm not playing back-up dancer or back-up _anything_ anymore. I've had enough. Amanda, let's go."

"Er… I…" Put on the spot like this, Amanda squirmed uncomfortably. Brittany realized that even if the two had appeared to be inseparable friends, Amanda was never in on this. But would she be now? Susan was in power at this point, feeding the fears and discomforts of the other Cheerios to bring Santana down. It disgusted Brittany how people could use such tactics to get ahead. This kind of behavior was what resulted in Santana's outing in the first place.

"_Amanda_…" Susan hardened her expression.

The freshman looked from Santana to Brittany to Susan. "I… I… This… this doesn't _feel_ right." She practically squeaked.

"What? You'd rather stay with _them_?" The shocked, horrified expression on Susan's face seemed genuine before she replaced it with an outraged one. "Fine!" She looked at the other Troubletones, "Lisa. Nancy. What about you two?" The two Troubletones-Cheerios members cast uneasy glances at Santana before walking to the other side of the room to show where their loyalties lay.

"Bennet?"

Bennet, who had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, not joining in when everyone was verbally murdering Santana, looked uncertain. She slowly stood up and toyed with her hair. For a moment, Brittany thought Bennet looked at them guiltily and was going to say that she chose Troubletones.

But Brittany was wrong.

Bennet crossed the invisible line between Troubletone and Cheerio.

"I'm staying here in case anyone was wondering." Mack attempted to lighten the mood with her input, but was only met with glares from all of those in the Cheerio side of the room.

"We weren't asking, Mackenzie." Bennet retorted.

"You've done enough damage here." Finally, someone took action. Brittany had a feeling they were _all_ too in shock to really react any earlier. Shelby approached the Cheerios, and from where Brittany was standing, she could see that their director was clearly stunned by what just happened. "Leave. _Now!_"

Reminded that there was a teacher in the area, and shaken by her sudden outburst, the cheerleaders scurried out of the room.

Then the heavy weight of what took place just moments ago crashed down on those who remained.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> This chapter was REALLY hard to write. In part because it was so long (and I kept debating with myself where to cut it), and because I had to introduce new characters to the readers yet still establish that they're not new people to the Glee canon characters themselves. That, and I rearranged this and revised this a couple of times (and toyed with ideas for several outcomes) before I felt relatively satisfied.

"Bleach" can be seen in _It's Not Unusual_, dancing next to Blaine. She's also in _Run the World._ "Amanda and Susan" are in every Troubletones scene in Mash-Off (and "Amanda" really is next to Brittany in most of those scenes), and a girl who either is or looks like "Susan" is visible in the _Run the World_ performance, Santana nods to her before standing up and singing her part (yes, I'm probably mildly obsessive)


	9. Chapter 9

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: So first off, I'd like to apologize if you find any inconsistencies in my portrayal of Mrs. Pierce. Again, it goes back to the fact that I never planned on making this fic last this long. xD When I started this thing, I didn't quite have that solid of a vision for Brittany and Santana's parents. In my mind, I just had some core traits for them, and let the writing go wherever it will. Mrs. Pierce (who is as of yet unnamed, **suggestions would be appreciated**), I wrote her to be understanding and welcoming, but I didn't really think much about it from there. Lately, I've been fleshing her out a little more, and I tried to get her to show more personality in this chapter. I hope this doesn't stretch too far away from how she behaved previously and I didn't throw anyone off.

On another note, I was asked why people aren't making that big of a deal about Santana being beaten up. My answer to that would be that to Brittany, it _is_ a big deal, and I sort of bring that up here. Quinn on the other hand just has too much on her mind to have room for how much that bothers her. And the rest of ND and TT? They don't quite... _know_. Brittany only really spread word of Santana being kicked out, and when Rory described Santana's state that night, some of ND would just assume that he was exaggerating. They're kind of in denial about it, and the fact that Santana's been doing her best to hide it from everyone else just encourages that denial.

So any real change of heart ND should be having has yet to happen because Santana's situation is still kind of just a really abstract idea in most of their heads.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

* * *

><p>Off.<p>

Turn it off.

Turn it off.

With her eyes tightly shut, Quinn focused on the euphoric rush the nicotine brought and used it to fortify the barriers being constructed around her heart. It wasn't exactly like turning her emotions off, which she so _badly_ wished she could do. But it was the closest she could get.

This was her fourth? Fifth? This might be her sixth stick. Quinn wasn't really keeping track of it. It didn't exactly matter. All of her being was currently focused on severing every connection to her emotions. That's all that mattered to her at this point.

"More." Quinn opened her eyes, huskily made the demand and flicked the cigarette away in one breath.

"No." Folding her arms across her chest, the Mack shook her head. "You've finished like one pack, Quinn. Enough."

"What're you, my mom?"

Mack ignored the comment, walked over to Quinn and prodded her shoulder. "I'm all out, so even if I _was_ up to giving you more, I couldn't." For the briefest of moments, Quinn felt a twinge of guilt. She should be grateful that Mack was actually being nice enough to share cigarettes despite the fact that Quinn left the Skanks months ago and almost never spoke to them. It was actually a surprise that they were even on speaking terms right now.

Still, Quinn wasn't ready to deal with that and hastily shoved the guilt over the wall to join the other emotions she didn't want to acknowledge. Quinn set her jaw and glared at Mack.

Instead of making some insulting comment or threatening to beat Quinn up, Mack put on an expression that was uncharacteristically soft. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Quinn snapped, continuing to glare.

Mack merely raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't you at your club's rehearsals?"

"Why aren't _you_?"

"It ended early." Mack answered in a way that made Quinn wonder whether or not she was telling the truth. "And you? What's your excuse?"

Quinn tilted her head back and folded her arms across her chest, trying to reconnect with the couldn't-care-less punk persona she adopted and abandoned several months ago. Hopefully, it would convince the Mack. "I didn't feel like going."

"But you _like_ doing this singing stuff." Mack sounded genuinely confused. "Don't you?"

The Mack and her comments and questions were getting a little too close for Quinn's comfort. This was neither the time nor the place to think about anything, to _feel_ for anything. This wasn't about talking it out and sharing _feelings_. This was supposed to just be about smoking away the hours and caring about _nothing_. "I'm going home." This conversation was over. Quinn turned her back on the Mack and walked away from yet another opportunity to open up to someone who seemed willing to listen.

This time, however, she wasn't going to let herself regret it. She was just going to turn it off.

Turn it _all_ off.

* * *

><p>All the lights were off, allowing darkness to blanket the kitchen and the living room. Though the shadows thrown over the furniture, walls and floor normally would have made her uneasy, they didn't this time. They neither comforted her nor scared her. They were just… <em>there<em>.

Minus the occasional noise of a passing car outside, silence reigned over the area. That… _that_ was somehow consoling.

This lack of sound made her feel like time came to a stop, allowing her a nice pause to just to get her bearings, to think, to just _breathe_. The soft sigh she let out was cautious, as if to preserve the sanctity of the silence. Brittany rested her elbows on the kitchen table and buried her face in her hands.

Santana was finally sleeping. Brittany left Lord Tubbington in the room to guard her.

Santana.

All Brittany could think about for the past several days was Santana and how unhappy she was. Actually, unhappy would be putting it very _very_ mildly. It was a lot more than merely unhappy. Miserable, sorrowful, mournful, distressed, pained… _suffering_. Those were a much closer description for Santana, who, just moments ago, had been crying too hard to be able to really breathe, let alone speak.

The words of comfort and encouragement Brittany tried to soothe her with seemed useless and ineffective. It was like Santana was being shredded into little pieces and Brittany was powerless to stop it. All she could do would be to put her back together, but at this point, Brittany was struggling to stay optimistic.

In the end, Brittany stopped talking and just softly sang slow notes, gently rocking back and forth with Santana clinging to her. The way Santana hung on so tightly… it was like Brittany was the lifeline that kept her from drowning under the merciless waves of pain. Like Brittany was that one vine protruding from a cliff's rocky walls, keeping Santana from falling to the bottom of chasm, countless miles down. Like Brittany was that one solid, strong column to cling to while everything crumbles under the pressure of the earth's tremors.

The responsibility was crashing down on Brittany now. What if she _wasn't_ strong enough to keep Santana from drowning, from falling, from shattering beyond repair? The thought of failing made her stomach lurch while pangs of pain pounded against the inside of her skull.

Seeing Santana reduced to this crying, broken shell of herself… Brittany felt like knives were digging into her chest and jaggedly twisting and moving side to side. Santana didn't deserve this. Who could _possibly_ deserve this?

No matter how many times Brittany wished it was all just a long, drawn-out nightmare and she was going to wake up soon, it refused to end. This was real and this was happening and she had to do everything in her power to pick up the pieces and rebuild. It fell on her, Brittany S. Pierce to take care of her girlfriend and carry her until she could walk again and stay by her side throughout the whole process.

_"OH MY GOD!"_

Brittany practically leaped off the seat when she heard a scream behind her. Nearly losing her balance and falling over, Brittany scrambled for the counter to steady herself.

"GHO—Oh! Brittany!" Heart rapidly thudding against her chest, Brittany recognized the figure standing in the shadows as her mother. And apparently, Mom also just recognized her own daughter. "Okay, that was just you. Whew! I thought I was looking at a ghost or something."

Brittany moved away from the counter and towards her mother. Her heart was still beating faster than normal, but at least it was starting to slow down now. "Mom… I-I thought you were asleep."

"I was busy playing Angry Birds. Then I stopped to sleep but I couldn't coz I kept thinking about how we're looking either at _really_ big birds or _really_ small pigs. And if the pigs are really small, I felt bad for them since those little miniature pigs people keep as pets are really cute. And then I thought about how if the birds are really big, and they have no wings or puny wings, they probably wouldn't be able to fly. And I wondered if birds who can't fly ever feel bad about it."

"Yeah. Before, I couldn't sleep for weeks because I kept thinking about that." Brittany admitted, recalling that traumatic week when Santana first introduced her to the addictive game. "But then I thought about how it's kind of inspiring. How-"

"-even if they can't fly-" Mom's teeth flashed in a knowing smile.

"-they don't ever let that stop them." Brittany continued, loving how she and her mother were always on the same wavelength.

"They're badass that way."

"The little birds that _can_ fly are probably really jealous of how confident the big flightless ones are." Brittany nodded.

"Exactly." Mom agreed in a cheerful voice before she adopted a more serious tone. "You're still awake and it's well past three. You're not doing homework or obsessively playing a game, or having sex with Santana."

Prickles of embarrassment made Brittany's skin crawl. "Mom!"

Oblivious to her daughter's apparent discomfort, Mom just went on. "So that leaves the fourth reason I notice you stay up for…" Now, she was showing her concern, with serious sincerity. "What's on your mind?"

Brittany looked down at her feet and whispered, "A lot of things…"

"It's supposed to be your bed time but knowing you, you're still not going to sleep if I send you to your room." Brittany couldn't help nodding in agreement. "If you want, I could pour us a glass of chocolate milk each and we can sit down and talk about all those of _things_."

"I'd really like that." Quinn hadn't been replying to her texts; Brittany didn't feel like troubling Mike, Artie or Mercedes; and she couldn't talk to Santana about Santana. So the invitation was gratefully accepted. Brittany sat on her chair while her mother poured the milk.

Mom took the seat next to Brittany. "So… tell me what you've been thinking about."

"Santana." Brittany answered almost automatically.

"Yeah, I figured." There was no surprise to meet Brittany's answer. "What about Santana?"

Toying with her fingers, Brittany thought more carefully about it this time. She filed through the thoughts scattered throughout her head, rearranging things and putting together the related ones and marking the significant ones. "I… I'm worried about her. And… scared for her." Brittany paused, rearranging the different ideas and emotions and fears. "She's just… going through so much right now… and it's really bringing her down. I just… I just really… I wish there was more I could do for her."

"You've done a lot for her already." Mom said almost the same thing Quinn had said several days ago. _Days_? This whole ordeal felt like it was dragging on for _years_.

"And I'm scared that I'm not going to be enough."

Mom cocked her head to one side. "Not enough?"

"Like… er…" Brittany tried to think of a better way to rephrase it. "Like I'm going to fail epicly at helping her overcome this."

"You _won't_." The conviction she put into those two words startled Brittany. "I know for a fact that you love her too much to allow either of you fail."

Brittany didn't know what to say to that. She squirmed in her seat and thought about how the part where _it gets better_ felt so far away. When she and Santana made their plans over the summer- to come out, to apply to colleges, to graduate, to go to New York together… the future seemed like such a bright place full of hope and opportunity. It was abstract and untouchable, but it wasn't unreachable.

Now, it was darkened by ominous storm clouds, lined with barbed spikes and surrounded by massive walls. Climbing those walls while carrying an injured Santana felt like such an impossible task.

The future was too terrifying to dwell on right now. Brittany turned back and retraced her steps until she came to the part where things started to just spiral downhill. The Mash-Off. Finn and Santana's rivalry. Brittany should have intervened. Maybe if she tried to talk to either of the two, things wouldn't have gotten so bad. Maybe if she paid attention to the gut-feel that told her Santana was still offended by Finn implying that Brittany was being manipulated, it would have been different. Maybe if she did something when she noticed that Santana was still hurt by New Directions' rejection at the start of the year, they wouldn't be going through this.

"Have you ever felt like you screwed up really badly by not doing anything… and you just wish you could build a time machine and go back in time to fix your mistakes?" Brittany asked.

Mom was not at all disconcerted by the abrupt change in topic. "Sometimes. But that only leaves me up all night, wasting time and sleeping hours thinking about what's never going to happen."

Well… true.

"And I would rather focus on the _now_. I like to think that if I do the best I can in the present, I'm working on making the future better. So that when I get to the future, I won't be thinking about the things I did wrong in the past. Does that make sense?"

Brittany nodded. She took a sip of milk, still caught up in thoughts of what she could have and should have done. They _were_ a waste of time… but they weren't exactly easy to shake off. "If I was there that night… do you think it would have turned out differently?"

"What night?"

The seriousness in her mother's voice made Brittany slightly uneasy, but she went on nevertheless. "The night… when Santana came out."

There was no immediate response. Mom quietly toyed with the glass and let a short pause pass by before she said, "I… can't say, honey. Maybe Mr. Lopez wouldn't have… hit Santana in front of you. Maybe he still would have. But I think they still would have… _evicted_ her whether or not you were there."

The thought of Santana being beaten by her own father still made Brittany nauseous. Until now, it was difficult to really believe, even with Santana's black eye right there in front of her. "He shouldn't have… he…" Brittany shook her head in an effort to banish the disturbing images, but they kept coming back. It aroused her anger as much as it stirred up her anxiety. "He should pay for that. They both should."

"I agree with you there… but what did Santana say about it?"

"She didn't want to go through the fuss of reporting what happened." Brittany admitted that she wanted Santana's parents to face the consequences of their actions, but she also didn't want to push Santana into doing anything she really didn't want to. "And she said she just doesn't want to talk to them or see them again."

"Then we should let things be for now. Let's just concentrate on showing her that even if some people can't accept her, we_ can_ and we_ do_."

Brittany took another sip. There were so many people who just couldn't see that there was nothing wrong with Santana. Knowing that such narrow-minded people existed hurt Brittany, both because they directly or indirectly attacked Santana and by default affected Brittany too, and because their judgements included Brittany too. Whenever someone implied Santana was unnatural, they implied that Brittany was, too. Brittany and Kurt and Blaine and so many more people. People who were just as smart, skilled, talented, awesome as anyone labeled as '_normal'_. Heck, they were sometimes even _better_.

"And if we just do that… it'll get better eventually… right?"

Mom nodded. "Of course it will."

"But… what if it doesn't?"

"It will." Mom moved her chair closer to Brittany. "It might not get better right away, and it will probably get worse before it gets better… but it _will_ get better. Remember that unicorn story? Don't ever forget that you're magical."

It sounded like such a simple, easy thing to do. Theoretically. In reality, Brittany was struggling to believe that she was magical, that it would get better, that they would get through this.

Even if she wasn't saying these things out loud, Brittany had a feeling that it was weird of her to be like this. Thinking positively, believing that anything was possible, talking about the '_real'_ magic in the world… all of that used to come so naturally to her. Why was it so _difficult_ now?

"If you're so doubtful about the future, why not do something in the present?" Mom wasn't deaf to her daughter's unspoken doubts. "Like I said earlier- make the most out of the present so you won't be so full of regrets in the future."

"Like how? Just telling Santana that I'm here for her and hugging her when she's just crying like her heart is bleeding, that doesn't feel like I'm actually _doing_ anything." Brittany didn't mean to start raising her voice, and once she became aware of it, she paused to recompose herself. When she spoke again, she did so in a more hushed volume. "I want to do _more_."

"You're running for president, aren't you?"

What did that have to do with it? Brittany nodded her head.

"Then make the most out of that." The passion and energy Mom was suddenly putting into her words was a little surprising. "Use your campaign to improve the school environment. If you win, you'd be in a position with power you can use to change things. That's _doing_ something. That's a concrete plan towards making things better instead of _waiting_ for it to get better. That's you showing the world the _magic_."

* * *

><p>When she woke up this morning, Santana made a promise to herself. Yesterday was a day full of weakness and vulnerability, full of breakdowns and tears. Today would be different. People respected and feared her when she was at her most vicious, and they stepped on her when she showed signs of having a heart that works.<p>

They hated her. That was an obvious, proven fact. Santana was not going to let it bother her though, because this morning, she came to a conclusion. She wasn't going to let them hate her because they looked down on her. She was going to make them hate her because they cowered beneath her. A big difference exists between the two, and Santana was going to take what little control of her life she could still get and use it to pick the less awful scenario.

"Future-President Brittany Pierce, a huge number of people have been commenting on my blog, detailing some highly scandalous stories regarding your sex life with your bed buddy, Miss Santana Lopez, who may or may not still be Cheerio Captain. What do you have to say about these rumors?"

"She is _not_ just someone I mess around in bed with." Brittany answered defensively, walking past Jacob Ben Israel, the annoying little creep who was just _begging_ to have his head shaved and shoved down an unflushed, clogged toilet.

"So is it _love_, then?" Jacob prolonged the word in a way that was both spiteful and mocking. "Do you think it'll affect the success rate of your campaign?"

Santana had heard enough. Seizing his shirt collar, she yanked him away from Brittany and towards herself, maintaining a vice-like grip. "Listen, Jewfro, if you don't back off and leave my girl alone, I'm gonna yank out each and every strand of disgustingly curly hair on your freakishly shaped head and shove that hair up your nose so hard it'll come out of your eyes. Try blogging with _that_ sprouting from your glasses." She could feel him trembling, and while minuscule particles of guilt tried to make its way to her heart, Santana shoved it away and relished the look of pure terror on his face. "Oh, and if you do or say or _write_ anything that'll hurt her chances of winning… well you best keep both eyes open and a bullet-proof vest on you every second of every day because I will _hunt you down_."

After she was done saying her piece, Santana released him. "Get out of our sight." With squeaks of fright, the blogger turned and fled, running as fast as his legs could go.

"Santana…"

_WHAT?_ Santana came close to shouting it out, just barely stopping herself in time. She took a deep breath to cool her anger, letting it out slowly before she faced Brittany. "Yeah, Britt?"

"You okay?"

Thinking about whether or not she was okay meant acknowledging that she was angrier than ever before. That she was struggling to get up and continue walking despite receiving blow after blow, rejection after rejection. That even if her eye didn't hurt anymore and her knee only slightly, the memories were still raw and deep. That the Cheerio incident yesterday only dug a deeper hole in her chest with a more jagged blade.

That was the last thing Santana wanted to do right now. She didn't want to _think_ about it, let alone talk about it.

"I'll be fine." Santana looked at Brittany and tried to use eyes and face to nonverbally convey that even if she wasn't exactly okay, she didn't feel like talking about it.

Receiving the message, Brittany nodded, wordlessly offering her pinky, which Santana gratefully accepted.

The subtle contact between them was able to help clear a space in Santana's filled mind, allowing her to breathe a little. It was the anchor that kept her from floating away in the vast, endless oceans of emotion and thought and memory.

* * *

><p>Brittany maintained the pinky link for as long as possible, until they had to part ways for separate classes. Santana attempted a smile before walking down the corridor, head up, stride confident. It was convincing enough to fool anyone who didn't know what Santana was going through.<p>

They would get through this. It was going to get better. Brittany reminded herself of the conversation with Mom last night and spent the walk to class planning her next move, the next concrete step towards _making_ things better. She considered putting together another performance to rally the student body's excitement, therefore making herself one of the most known and most remembered candidates. Talking straightforwardly about being against bullying and discrimination wasn't going to work. Kurt's failing campaign was proof of that. Putting too much effort into her own social circles, the Cheerios and Glee wouldn't work either, because Rick the Stick wasn't exactly supported by many outside the Hockey Team. Brittany had to do something that would appeal to general interests, but she also had to make sure that she specifically catered to each interest within each clique. And that should be without accidentally offending any groups too badly that they would vote Kurt or Rick instead.

Once she got to the classroom, Brittany put her plans on hold and did her best to concentrate on the lesson, taking notes of important details. Somehow, she was going to find the time to study these notes later, in between campaigning and rehearsing and taking care of Santana.

By the time lunch break finally came, Brittany headed straight for the cafeteria, craning her neck above the crowd to find Santana or Mercedes or Sugar. Instead, she caught sight of Amanda lining up to get food.

After yesterday's disastrous rehearsal and Shelby abruptly dismissing them, Brittany still had some things she wanted to ask and say to Amanda but didn't get the chance to. If Santana and Mercedes already found a table, they wouldn't mind waiting for a little while. Brittany made her way through the horde of hungry students to the younger Cheerio.

"Hi, Amanda!"

The freshman flinched when Brittany called her name, then looked left and right as if to make sure she was really the one being addressed. "Er… hi, Miss Pierce."

Brittany raised her eyebrow and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What did I tell you about calling me that?"

Flashing an uneasy smile, Amanda corrected herself. "Sorry. Hi, Brittany."

"I wanted to talk to you about yesterday, would you mind?"

Amanda looked obviously uncomfortable, and for a moment, Brittany thought she was going to say she didn't want to talk. But instead, the younger Cheerio nodded, left the line for the food and allowed Brittany to lead her to a relatively quiet corner of the cafeteria.

"First," Brittany spoke as gently as possible, aware of Amanda's nervousness. "I'd like to thank you for standing up to Susan yesterday and supporting Santana. You didn't have to, but you did." In an effort to look as gentle and nonthreatening as possible, Brittany bent her knees slightly, so their eyes were on the same level. "You did the right thing." _It was brave for you to do that when you were being pressured and we were outnumbered and Santana was on the verge of breaking down and I was just too in shock to speak. When I look back to it, it reminds me that there is still magic in this world, that _still_, anything is possible._ Brittany would have added more, but she wasn't sure how to really expresses it since her belief in _magic_ was only truly understood by Santana or Mom.

Slightly swaying side to side, Amanda smiled a different smile, still kind of uncomfortable, but more in a positive, embarrassed way than the tense, nervous expression from earlier. "I just… I just didn't… I don't know…" Amanda self-consciously toyed with the end of her ponytail, "It's just that… you're always so nice to me… and we already sort of knew about the… the _you-and-Santana thing_. And personally, I didn't think it made you any… you know… any less awesome." A nervous smile and a slight bob up and down accompanied this, as if Amanda wasn't sure if what she was saying would be received positively or not.

"And okay, I admit, I'm not completely comfortable with it since yeah it's still kind of a new idea to me and we don't really see that kind of thing much I mean there's that gay guy friend of yours and his boyfriend and then sometimes I'm not sure about the Mack and then there are those Quinn Fabray-Rachel Berry rumors and there was one time I saw the two janitors making out but like besides those it's kinda rare right but I'm not really disgusted or whatever more like intrigued and I hope Santana doesn't beat me up or yell at me for saying this are you going to tell her wait actually I can't ask you whether or not you should tell her coz people don't keep stuff from their girlfriends or boyfriends it works the same way having a girlfriend as a boyfriend right because I-"

"Amanda, you're kind of rambling." Brittany was willing to wait for Amanda to finish, but when it became clear that she was going to talk on and on until something stopped her, Brittany interrupted. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mercedes waving from several tables away. Brittany quickly nodded and waved back before returning her attention to Amanda. "About those two janitors, I knew about that like ages ago, and I totally ship them." Brittany stopped herself from going into a series of narrations about each time she'd gone to the janitor's closet to get her mack on, only to find out she'd been beaten to it.

_Focus, Brittany._ "Anyway, I also wanted to talk to you about something else." First, she had to know for sure where Amanda was. "You're still a Cheerio, right?"

Amanda nodded apprehensively. "Yeah, I am. Is that bad? Should I leave and just be a Troubletone instead?"

Brittany shook her head, "No, it's good, actually. I need your help."

The nervousness in Amanda's behavior was noticeably diminished, replaced by curiosity. "What can I do?"

"I need information." Brittany knew that what she sometimes lacked with academic knowledge and sometimes in communicating with people, she made up for with reading people. She had her own ways of learning about some of the little quirks and habits and movements that gave away what some people might be thinking, especially when it came to Santana and most of New Directions and a number of Cheerios. This time though, it would help to have some back up and get a clearer understanding of the situation before she really finalized any plan.

Amanda raised an eyebrow, "Like what? I'm not that good at getting around the library, the catalogs and labels confuse me."

"No, not like that." Brittany shook her head, mildly amused. Amanda was no special case when it came to feeling lost in library labels. "It's about the Cheerios."

Now, Amanda looked uncomfortable again, but despite the apprehension and nervousness in her tensed shoulders and tightened grip on the tray, there was still some eagerness flashing in her eyes, joining the curiosity. Brittany took this as encouragement to continue.

"I need you to find out exactly who are most against Santana and really down with a case of unicorn-phobia, and if you can, try to figure out who might be joining in the Santana-hate just because they're not sure and just want to be sheep doing what everyone else is doing instead of figuring out for themselves that rainbows are better than fields. And finally, find out how many people see the light of the rainbow and still respect Santana as the Cheerios' Co-Captain." Right after she said this, Brittany realized just how much of a challenge it might be for anyone to understand her point, so she added, "Understand?"

Impressing Brittany, Amanda nodded her head and said, "Yes, I understood. And yeah, I think I can do that."

"Great! Thanks!" With a satisfied smile, Brittany dismissed Amanda and walked to the table where Mercedes and Sugar already were. She tried not to get too worried the moment she realized that Santana wasn't there yet.

"Wow! M-uh-ahem!" Sugar coughed halfway through her exclamation. "You look old today. Like how you would look if it was 2037 or something."

"Sugar!" Mercedes, who looked like she was already in a sour mood, scolded Sugar, glaring at the younger girl. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sorry! Asperger's!"

"I didn't sleep much last night." Brittany spoke up before the mild tension could escalate into any real conflict.

"I didn't either." Mercedes said, "How's Santana? Is she alright?"

"Is she going to miss school again today?" Sugar asked.

Brittany appreciated their concern. It was comforting to know that there were still other people who genuinely cared about Santana besides Brittany. They weren't alone in this. If anything, yesterday was an eye-opener that showed her exactly who were the people she could count on. "She's here, and… she's getting by." Brittany personally didn't mind sharing and opening up, but she knew Santana was the opposite, so she kept the details to a minimum. "I think she'll be joining us soon."

"Well at least you're both getting through this and dealing with it and everything. I didn't think things got _this_ horrible. I mean I knew it was bad, but I didn't think it was _hell_." As if realizing at the last minute that what she was saying wasn't exactly helpful, Sugar quickly said, "Sorry, Asperger's!"

"Just… ignore Aspercrazy over there." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "The point is that somehow, we're going to figure out a way out of this mess." The optimistic tone sounded forced, and when Mercedes sighed, resting her cheek against her palm, Brittany knew her guess was right. "We have to… soon." She whispered the words out so softly, Brittany just barely heard it.

"We _will_ get through this." Brittany insisted, not liking how the negative vibes were bringing her down and only highlighting the worries and anxieties she kept back. "We just have to look harder for new members."

Mercedes shrugged wordlessly and picked at her food. Brittany remembered that she herself just had an empty tray and forgot to get lunch after talking to Amanda. Maybe she should go and get a carton of that milk Santana likes, before everyone else consumes all of it. Brittany was just about to stand up when Mercedes spoke, "Britt…"

She sounded really down. Brittany would have assumed it just had to do with worrying about Troubletones and how they were now six members short and Sectionals was barely two weeks away. But for some reason, Brittany had doubts about making such an assumption.

"When… when you were with…" The way Mercedes was introducing her topic didn't sound like it had anything to do with Troubletones, but again, Brittany couldn't be completely sure just yet. Frowning, Mercedes shook her head and looked like she was changing the topic at the last minute, "I was just wondering if you knew anyone else who might wanna join. I mean you… you were with… you were with a lot of people when you did that Run the World performance. Do you think any of them might be interested in joining the Troubletones?"

Brittany tried not to pout when Mercedes changed tone and posture so suddenly. This wasn't what she was originally going to talk about, and the topic-change was a little frustrating. Still, Brittany decided that Mercedes would open up when she was ready. "Most of them were the same Cheerios who just quit yesterday, but I still have to check with some other girls and see what they think."

* * *

><p>Walking around McKinley High without her Cheerios uniform made Santana feel vulnerable. After being shoved out of the closet by whaleboy and that damn politician, Santana counted on wearing her Cheerios uniform as an armor against any judgment this school could throw at her. It was in McKinley, more than anywhere else, where that uniform would have been equivalent to strutting down England or whatever wearing the Queen's crown. Even if some jocks dared to mess with Cheerios sometimes, generally, they were untouchable. Everyone in the school knew that anyone wearing a letterman jacket or a cheerleader's uniform was on top and in control.<p>

Now… there was so little that Santana could still control. There was her recent epiphany, when she realized she could manipulate people into hating her because her boldness and anger frightened them. There was the way she maintained a confident, couldn't-care-less badass image.

But basically… that was it.

Santana felt like she was in the middle of the ocean, with the current taking her where it wants to, giving her no say in the destination.

She hated this.

It robbed her of her appetite. The thought of being in the cafeteria, where a table full of Cheerios sat together, more likely than not gossiping about how they would be getting a new head cheerleader soon… it only made Santana feel more reluctant about going there. The only reason she was bothering was because Brittany was going to be there, and Santana promised her this morning that they would sit together with Mercedes and eat together.

At the very least, they could eat and Santana could watch.

Though Brittany would probably end up talking or charming Santana into eating a little.

Santana was just a few more turns away from the cafeteria when she realized exactly who was in front of her. It was Rick the Stick and his two cold-blooded cronies. Rick had a slushie in hand, and it was clear that they had malicious plans in mind.

They had yet to notice that a viable target was right behind them, and Santana was willing to keep it that way. Still, she decided to follow them and see what was going to happen.

When she spotted Blaine and Kurt at the end of the corridor, holding hands and talking with their faces barely a few inches apart, Santana new they were about to become slushie victims.

This led Santana to consider two options. One, she could turn around and walk away. What was about to happen didn't involve her in any way. What did she care if Kurt's porcelain face got a little stained or if Blaine's eyebrows were dyed a brighter color that would make them look even more like furry caterpillars? They could handle themselves and have some fluffy little moment in the boy's room cleaning each other up.

Besides. Kurt was running for president against Brittany. That meant that Kurt and Blaine were against Brittany and Santana. They were rivals in more ways than just being on opposing glee clubs.

Option two, she could intervene.

For one thing, she still had a score to settle with the Stick's frozen ass. After the slushie facial he gave her yesterday, Santana still wasn't through with him. The verbal thrashing didn't feel like enough. Getting in his face again didn't sound like a bad idea. It was tempting.

For another, Santana still felt some weird attachment to the New Directions kids, even if they were in two different glee clubs now. Santana wasn't going to deny that she could be mean to them and sometimes hate a lot of them, but she _did_ care about them. Sort of. That was something she'd never admit to them out loud though.

They were getting nearer. Santana had to decide soon. Kurt and Blaine were too caught up in whatever it was they were talking about to see what was coming.

She didn't need to get involved. Santana had enough problems to deal with and further provoking Rick was just adding to her steadily growing list of enemies. The Cheerios were a big enough issue. Giving the hockey jocks a promotion was a beyond stupid idea.

"Hey, pixies!" Rick moved his arm back to gain momentum. Kurt and Blaine stiffened.

_Screw it._ Santana lunged forward, aiming for Rick's hand and catching him by surprise. Instead of going for Blaine, who had automatically put himself in front of Kurt, the cup ended up tilting towards Rick with Santana's guidance. As a result, the hockey team's leader got a taste of his own medicine. Green slushie coated his face and mullet.

Seeing the look of unmasked shock on his face filled Santana with glee. With a satisfied smirk, she nodded to Kurt and Blaine before strutting off, returning to her original course towards the cafeteria.

When she got there, Santana searched the crowd for the familiar blond head and found Brittany almost immediately.

Without warning, a jock moved in to block Satana's path. "Hey, I just saw that commercial." He leaned towards her, invading Santana's personal space and getting too close for comfort.

The triumphant feelings she got out of giving Rick a slushie facial vanished immediately. Santana frowned and raised her defenses. "Get the hell out of my way."

"I'm Josh Coleman. Sophomore rugby captain." The school had a rugby team? "And girls like you are a challenge. You just need the right guy to straighten you out and I'm just the man to do it." Was he _serious?_

"Okay, first of all, I've seen more wrinkles on your forehead than on hundred-year-old guys. Second, if you don't get out of my face now, I'mma go _All_ Lima Heights." Though his presence made her skin crawl and his cologne made her nauseous, Santana resisted the urge to back away. She stood her ground and gave him her harshest glare.

"Take it _easy_, I'm just here to help ya out." Coleman lifted an eyebrow and smiled lopsidedly in what was obviously an attempt to look hot. Which he failed miserably at. "And soon enough, you're gonna thank me for makin' ya normal."

Normal? Loving Brittany wasn't normal but coming on to girls you've never met before and invading their personal space _was_? Santana lifted her palms, signaling for him to move away. "Okay, _ew_. Just back _off_." She said menacingly, hoping to scare him away and wondering why he was stupid enough to still be keeping this up.

"_C'mon_." Doing the opposite of what she wanted, Coleman stepped forward, pressing his face awkwardly close to Santana's and finally forcing her to take a step backwards. "Give it a shot. I _know_ I could make you normal." He gave her a wink that only heightened the discomfort. "And it'll be _way_ worth it."

_Normal_. Why couldn't he just stop implying that she wasn't normal? It was poking at the fresh wounds that didn't even get to scab over yet. Hearing… _other people_ talk about how much she was an abomination was painful enough as it was. She didn't need him emphasizing it and reminding her of how much she was a disgrace. She didn't need him to remind her that she was banished from her own house and being pushed out of her own team just because she finally realized that changing this part of herself was impossible.

Mistakenly assuming that her silence meant she was considering the offer, Coleman moved closer and dared to put his hand on her waist. "I can change ya, babe. Trust me." The touch felt like it seared through her clothes and burned her skin.

"Leave her alone." Relieved to hear the familiar voice, Santana watched Brittany pull Coleman's hand away then push him back, effectively positioning herself between Coleman and Santana. "She doesn't need anyone to change her, especially not you. She's _perfect_ the way she is." Were her ears really working properly? Did Santana just hear Brittany say _perfect_?

"Easy there," Coleman looked caught off guard for a moment, but slipped back into his slimy persona almost instantly. "I'm just doin' a good deed and helping her out."

"She wasn't asking for it." Brittany was being more vocal, and showing more cold anger than Santana had ever seen from her before. Though the bitter ache of being reminded that so many people found her abnormal still pierced her, the knowledge that Brittany was here to steadfastly defend her was a soothing tonic that dulled the pain. Brittany said _Santana was perfect the way she was_.

"What are you, her girlfriend or something?" Coleman raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side.

"Of course I am, and right now, I'm warning you. Back away from _my_ girlfriend." Brittany gave her warning in a hard, icy tone, not afraid of meeting his eyes and moving towards him. The way Brittany was acting almost scared Santana, but _mostly_, it was _impressive_. This was Brittany pushed into losing her temper. This was Brittany not afraid of getting into a conflict for the sake of a cause she cared about. This was Brittany defending Santana, _her girlfriend_. Brittany saying, _'I love you, Santana and I'm doing this for you._'

Coleman had the sense to move back, but not enough to finally go away. "And what if I don't? Heck, maybe we three could get it on and you two will realize how much better it is with _me_."

"Move your _busted_ _creeper_ _ass_. Now." Mercedes seemed to come in out of nowhere, taking a stand next to Brittany. "And if you don't get going soon, I'm going to call my boy Shane Tinsley, McKinley's star linebacker, who's like twice your size and he _will_ beat the shit out of you."

* * *

><p>Quinn kept her head down and distractedly picked at her food. All morning, she had successfully managed to avoid Rachel, who was probably just <em>dying<em> to interrogate Quinn for being absent at yesterday's rehearsals. Quinn was also sort of avoiding Brittany, Santana and Mercedes today because she wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to talk to Brittany and Santana about their problems and act encouraging and comforting. She wasn't ready to face Mercedes and go through the long overdue catching up conversations. She wasn't ready to hear any of them say, "Quinn, are you okay?" because they were likely to notice if she failed to maintain her mask.

Why couldn't she just pretend everything was okay? Quinn was trying, but Shelby's second rejection kept penetrating the walls. It was a miracle that Quinn perfected the pop quiz in Math.

"So what happened to you yesterday? We missed you in the choir room."

There was a short pause before Quinn realized Tina was talking to her. Looking up from her plate, Quinn saw that Mike, Tina, Artie, Kurt and Blaine were all looking at her. So much for choosing this table as the best option if she wanted to be ignored. "I… er…" Quinn shrugged and tried to downplay it, "Something came up and it… it kept me from attending rehearsals."

"But you _are_ coming next time, right?" Artie said.

"Yeah. Sure."

The synchronized sigh of relief confused Quinn until Blaine said, "We were kind of worried that you were going to join the Troubletones." Quinn wondered where they would have gotten that idea. She didn't recall telling any of them about her plan to try joining last week, when she was trying to get closer to Shelby. Or did she?

"What do you think's happening over there?" Mike's sudden change of topic saved Quinn from having to respond to the subtle question hidden behind Blaine's statement. The five of them followed the direction Mike was looking, towards the other side of the cafeteria.

There, they saw Santana and Brittany talking to a guy in a letterman jacket. Quinn didn't recognize him as any of the football jocks. From the way Brittany was standing stiffly, stretched up to her full height, hands balled up in to fists, Quinn could be sure that it wasn't casual conversation.

"Do you know him?" Tina asked.

"Nope." Mike shook his head, "But I think I saw him touch Santana before Brittany pushed him away." Quinn watched, torn between staying here and staying out of it, or going there and backing her friends up.

Before she could really battle with the indecision, Quinn saw Mercedes join in, and when she did, the jock seemed to flinch before walking away from them. After that, the three Troubletones girls walked to their table together.

"Good job, Mercedes!" Kurt sounded really pleased, congratulating his friend even if she couldn't hear him.

"At least Santana has them backing her up." Blaine's tone was less enthusiastic, "I wish though that there was some way we could get closer to her."

"It's tricky because during class, she keeps taking seats at the other end of the room before we can even offer her the chair next to us." Tina said.

"Yeah, it's like she's scared of being near us or she hates being near us or something." Artie sounded a little frustrated. "She just ignored us in class this morning."

Quinn couldn't understand why Santana was behaving this way. After Quinn told Brittany about New Directions members not hating Santana, and even wanting to offer help and support, Quinn was expecting Santana to be more open and comfortable with them. Maybe Brittany didn't relay the information yet. Or perhaps Santana just wasn't ready.

"But she saved us from being slushied just a while ago." Blaine said, glancing at Kurt. "It was kind of cool, actually."

"That Rick the Stick guy slushied _himself_ thanks to Santana." Kurt smiled, "It was quite a sight to see."

Whatever was going on with Santana, and even if hanging out with New Directions members clearly still made her uncomfortable, she _was_ still looking out for them. In a way, she was _still_ one of them. "That was nice of her." Quinn managed to smile and genuinely feel pleased for Santana.

"Oh by the way. Kurt, what's going on with you and Finn?" Artie asked.

The smiles suddenly faded from Kurt and Blaine's faces. Blaine immediately looked at Kurt with an expression that showed concern. Kurt on the other hand shifted uncomfortably, "We're still not on good terms. We actually had an argument last night because of him not showing up to rehearsals yesterday."

"Him too?" Quinn couldn't help interrupting. This news came as a surprise. Finn was_ dating Rachel Berry_. His being absent in the choir room was like a mortal sin next to feeding her meat.

"Yeah, he was MIA too." Mike confirmed.

"Well if it's still about him talking it out with Santana, then I can understand where he's coming from." Artie said, "I mean it's difficult for a man to apologize, especially for something he doesn't think he did wrong."

"But doesn't he feel bad about it at all?" Tina asked before Quinn could even come up with something to say.

"Well he said that he _feels bad_ about what happened to Santana," Kurt said as if to defend his stepbrother, but in a more frustrated tone, he added, "But he hates how everyone's blaming him and making a big deal about it."

"But it _is_ a big deal." Quinn almost yelled, just barely lowering her voice in time.

"Quinn!" Her name being called was accompanied by a hand gripping her shoulder in a way that wasn't exactly gentle. "I gotta talk to you."

"What?" Quinn knew it was Puck. She also knew she didn't want to talk to him right now.

"I saw you talkin' to Shelby yesterday." All the thoughts and emotions tied to yesterday's memory began redoubling their efforts, throwing themselves against the dam Quinn was working so hard to fortify and maintain. "What were you two talkin' about?"

"None of your business." Quinn glanced uneasily at everyone else at the table. They were all staring now, only increasing her distress. Hopefully, they wouldn't interrogate her once she got rid of Puck.

"You didn't tell her about my drink'n'drive did you?" Puck tightened his grip on her shoulder, giving away just how badly he worried that she did.

Quinn pried his fingers off and stood up. "No, I _didn't_. It had _nothing_ to do with you." How she managed to maintain a firm voice was a big accomplishment.

"You sure? Really?" There was relief written all over Puck's face, mingled with fearful denial.

The memory of Shelby's rejection grew more and more vivid. _You had your chance_. Quinn wasted it by betraying Shelby's trust. Wasted it by using up all the babysitting sessions planning how to get Beth back instead of how to get Beth to like her. Wasted it convincing herself she was a worthier mother than Shelby instead of really getting to know Beth.

Now... she might as well send her farewells to any hope of seeing Beth again because Shelby clearly wasn't interested in entertaining anymore visits or encouraging anymore bonding. It was over.

It was over and it _hurt_.

Quinn looked directly at Puck and used the last of her energy to speak steadily, "Yes, I'm _sure_." She didn't want to talk about this any longer. Didn't want to dwell on this any longer.

To put an end to the conversation, Quinn walked away, before anyone could ask her anymore questions, before anyone could see that her mask was slipping, before anyone could tell that she was trying too hard to keep her voice from shaking. The wall was really starting to crumble now. Shelby's voice was beginning to fill her head, the words getting louder and louder.

_You had your chance. What you did with it isn't my fault. _

_You have _no_ idea what it means to be a mother._

Deceitful.

Selfish.

What child deserved to have a mother like Quinn?

* * *

><p>Lunch was a surprisingly okay affair after the run-in with the creepy perverted sophomore. They somehow wound up laughing and joking around, coming up with various nicknames for the jock and talking about his oversized jaw and wrinkled forehead. From there it went to gossiping about teachers and students, criticizing the cafeteria food, giggling at awkwardly dressed freshmen, laughing at Sugar making funny faces… light things that Santana unexpectedly enjoyed. It was like a brief escape. For a little more than half an hour, Santana got to forget about all the judgment and hate being thrown her way, all the rejection and all the repulsion. She got to remember what being a regular high school student was like, just sitting and eating with friends, enjoying herself.<p>

She got to forget to be angry.

She was reminded of the fact that there were people outside of the Pierce family who _did_ care about her.

Sugar, despite slipping up when she noticed the black eye and saying, "_Oh gosh! M-my god! I didn't know it got this bad, this bad that- I mean I knew it wasn't nice, but I didn't think-_" quickly remedied what she said before Santana could really dwell on regretting choosing heavy make-up over shades. _"Sorry, Asperger's! It's really not that noticeable, I was just kind of staring, I mean I didn't mean to stare—and you're still really pretty and actually—wait, no I wasn't staring because you're pretty, I just-_"

It wasn't really Sugar's words that soothed Santana, it was the way the girl just stumbled all over herself- that was kind of amusing. And looking back at it… the way Sugar looked like she was _really_ trying. Santana was already insanely uncomfortable and fearful about people noticing that the skin around her left eye was a shade darker than the right, but the way they were showing her that they weren't going to dwell on it if she didn't want to... it was very nice of them. It helped her avoid the dark thoughts that plagued her at night.

And there was Mercedes. Santana still couldn't quite believe how Mercedes just came to Santana's defense and didn't hesitate to scare the hell out of the jock. And the way Mercedes kept tactfully changing the course of the conversation whenever Sugar said something inappropriate or whenever it somehow started to get too serious or uncomfortable.

_Brittany_. The way Brittany faced Josh Coleman was also something Santana still couldn't quite believe. Besides thinking about Sugar and Mercedes, Santana was of course constantly replaying in her head the fearless way Brittany spoke. It was one of the most direct, assertive things Santana had ever seen Brittany do. Considering Brittany's gentle, anti-conflict nature, this was _big_.

"You're smiling."

Santana blinked. "Am I?" She looked to her right, where Brittany was walking by her side, head tilted slightly, watching Santana curiously.

"Uh-huh. It's like you've been watching ducklings dancing on clouds."

The smile she only just realized she was wearing grew wider. "I'm just in a good mood." Santana lifted her hand up to chest level, pinky up.

With a grin taking shape on her own face, Brittany linked their pinkies. "You have _no_ idea how happy I am to hear that."

"And how happy would you be to hear me say that I'm _really_ glad to have you as my girlfriend?"

Brittany giggled, her cheeks reddening. "Very _very_ happy, like… I-ate-a-rainbow happy. No, more than that!"

"Well it's _true_. You're… You're _magical_, Brittany."

"You are too."

Brittany was _here_. Brittany S. Pierce was here for her, always was and always would be. That alone was enough to reinforce the fact that Brittany was the silver lining in Santana's miserable, stinking world. But then there was also the Pierce family, who welcomed her and now treated her like she was one of them. And then there was Mercedes and Sugar, one diva and one brat, but both able to treat her like a friend. And… now that Santana was thinking about it… there was Quinn. They had yet to exchange words today, but the support she showed the previous days…

It was _touching_.

Santana was thinking about how she wasn't alone. About the supportive people instead of the hateful people. It was… _bizarre_. But in a good way. This mood was just too good to be true. It… it was actually nicer than plotting her revenge. The scenarios she went through earlier today, of how to punish the Susan and Bleach and the other Cheerios… those were fulfilling to think about. But _this_ was different.

If only it could stay this way and just never end.

"Lesbo!" _Of_ _course_ it was going to end. Santana rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on Brittany's pinky, using it to anchor the happy mood that slowly began to disintegrate.

"What, White Witch? Your pretty little ice castle's the other way." She just needed to keep her cool. Rick the Stick was nothing. Whatever he had against Santana and Brittany couldn't hurt them. This was fine.

There were three of them, including Rick. The other two didn't look too hostile, as if they were there more out of loyalty to their leader than out of any genuinely deep dislike for either Brittany or Santana. It was just Rick himself who was really fuming. "You take back the shit you said yesterday about me."

He was probably talking about the walk down humiliation lane she gave him after his team slushied Santana and Brittany. "What shit? Everything I said to you yesterday was true." Santana could almost imagine the jokes his teammates were probably cracking ever since. That must be why he was so mad about it. The slushie facial probably only deepened his anger towards her. And he was trying to scare her into submitting.

Her defiance was only fueling his rising temper. "You're acting real high an' mighty for a little freak."

Santana's good mood was completely gone now, but she wasn't completely angry yet. Breaking the pinky link, Santana took a step towards Rick. "_I'm_ the freak? I'm not the one with a crappy hairstyle straight out of crappy 80's movie."

"You're a freak with fucking fake boobs, like all the fake guys you fucked." That one stung. It painted a clear picture of all the mistakes and regrets from the last two years or so. Flashes of memories ran through her mind- of her almost desperate evenings spent sleeping with Puck and Finn and several other guys, putting so much effort into seeming _normal_... For a moment, Santana was stunned.

"Leave her alone." Brittany moved forward so she was next to Santana.

Rick turned to face Brittany. "And you're _so_ gonna lose now that people know you ain't any better than she is."

He was messing with Brittany. This was not okay. "Do _not_ include her in this." Santana snapped out of it and prodded his chest as a warning. "This is between you and me, Ape Drape." Insulting Santana alone was bad, but she could handle it. Dragging Brittany into the picture was crossing the line. Rick the Stick was _asking_ for it.

The hockey team leader returned his attention to Santana. "You keep your hands away from me!"

"Oh yeah?" Santana gave him another poke.

She watched him hunch forward, shoulders tense, hands clenched into fists. "Are you _seriously_ provoking me?"

Santana met his narrowed eyes, "What if I am?" She poked him again, harder this time. "Are you afraid of finding out what goes down in Lima Heights?"

"_Stop touching me, bitch!_" He all but roared at her face.

In response, Santana jabbed her finger into his chest, making sure to use more nail than fingertip, causing more pain than mere discomfort.

Rick retaliated by pushing her away.

The push wasn't that hard, just enough for Santana to stagger back slightly and regain her balance immediately. It wasn't hard enough to really knock her far back, but it was enough to fire up her anger. With a grunt, she shoved him, using enough strength to make him stumble back several steps. He might have actually fallen if he hadn't grabbed hold of his teammate's jersey.

Rick steadied himself before fighting back, ramming his hands against Santana's shoulders in a strong shove that made her bump into the lockers behind her.

"Stop the violence!"

Too angry to let this go, Santana ignored Brittany and propelled herself forward, slamming her body against Rick's and knocking the wind out of him. The sound the lockers made when the hockey player's back met them was a lot louder.

"_You're_ the loser and _you're_ the freak." Santana shouted into his ear.

Grabbing her arm and part of her vest, Rick yanked Santana off and swung her sideways, against the lockers. This collision had much more force than the previous one, and it sent pain rushing through her hip and shoulder, while a gasp leaped out of her mouth.

"_STOP!_" A booming roar stopped them in their tracks. Powerful hands took firm hold of Santana's vest and Rick's jersey and jerked them away from each other. Through the haze of pain and rage, Santana recognized Coach Beiste.

The football coach directed her attention to Rick, "You! To the principal's office!" She let go of him and watched him gape at her in disbelief. "Well? _Get going_!" The hockey player glanced helplessly at his teammates, then cast one last glare at Santana before walking in the direction of Principal Figgins's office. The other two hockey jocks fled in the opposite direction, leaving Brittany and Santana alone with Coach Beiste.

"And _you_." Though Beiste's voice was noticeably less hoarse when she released Santana, she dreaded what was going to happen next. Mr. Schue, in the past, often let his Glee kids get away with violence. For some reason. But Beiste was a different story- she was known for getting overly aggressive jocks suspended.

Still… the last time Santana got into a fight in school, it was with Zizes the White Rhino. And that time, Beiste carried Santana to the clinic instead of Figgins's office.

"You alright?"

Beiste spoke softly, with what sounded like real concern. Santana was immensely relieved to hear this. "I-I'm fine." A suspension or even detention was the last thing she needed. It would be humiliating if Mr. and Mrs. Pierce were to find out what kind of trouble their guest got into. Santana realized she had to at least try to be a little more careful. Before, she came to a point where she didn't give a damn anymore if her parents did or didn't know about her detentions and quarrels.

Now was a different story. Failing a test or getting sent to detention kind of felt like disappointing the Pierces. Santana was dating their daughter, living in their house, eating their food and living on their money. The least she could do was try to behave in school. As if to reinforce this, Brittany stroked Santana's back.

"Good. Now get to class. I gotta make sure that boy actually _does_ go to see Figgins instead of hidin' out somewhere." Beiste said before going down the path Rick went.

"Coach Beiste, thanks!" Brittany called after her.

Beiste looked over her shoulder, "I got a tip from on of you glee kids. It's great you all keep lookin' out for each other."

"One of…" Brittany raised an eyebrow and tapped her chin. "Who?"

Santana looked over Brittany's shoulder and thought she saw a glimpse of plaid vanishing from view just around the corner.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> Okay, well Mercedes now has a slightly clearer picture of what went down in the Lopez house, but I have yet to write out how she genuinely feels about the matter. And oh dear, is Quinn regressing and going back to being distant and crazy? We'll see how long she can keep running from her emotions, eh? ;)

And I'm curious. Who of you can guess what Mercedes was supposed to confide during lunch? ;)

And what do y'all think about the glee kid who hurried to get Beiste to intervene? I feel like I was obvious. xD


	10. Chapter 10

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: (explaining myself time) This took ages to update because of three things: a) dengue happened to me; b) I wasn't satisfied with this chapter. It was revised at least three times; c) On My Way happened _(and I am insanely gripped by the urge to write a Faberry fic after or in between this. What're your thoughts?)_

This chapter was supposed to touch more in the glee kids' reactions to what went down the night Santana came out to her parents, but I ended up pushing it further forward (to either chapter 11 or 12), but it does sort of touch on it here. Let's say this is when it's just starting to sink in for them and Mercedes's confirmation of it has yet to really reach the others.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

* * *

><p>After Brittany barely got any sleep last night, it was nice to see her getting some rest. Santana couldn't help feeling like she might have been at least part of the reason why Brittany was going around yesterday looking like a sleep-deprived zombie. It was a guilt-inducing thought.<p>

Santana kissed Brittany's cheek, moving slowly and carefully to avoid waking her, and watched the smile that slowly took shape after. Brittany was the most beautiful person Santana had ever seen and would ever see. Gentle and forgiving, Brittany was also one of the nicest people Santana knew. Sometimes, more often on these past few days, Santana wondered how she could possibly deserve someone like Brittany. Brittany, always there for her, always looking out for her, always protecting her and taking care of her…

She looked so calm in her sleep.

One could almost forget about how life was anything but calm lately.

After casting one more glance at her peacefully sleeping girlfriend, Santana opened the door and went down to the kitchen. She took several sheets of paper and a pen, with the intention of catching up on the homework she was falling behind on. Santana wanted Brittany to take school seriously, now more than ever. It would only be fair for Santana to prioritize her own education, too.

About two hours came and went. Santana spent every minute focused on her essay until footsteps caught her attention. Looking up from her paper, Santana watched Mrs. Pierce walk straight to the fridge. She took out a carton of milk and drank from it.

Santana couldn't help wondering if Brittany also did the same thing when she thought nobody was looking. The thought of it was amusing.

"Hi, Mrs. P." Santana waved.

"Santana! You're here!" Mrs. Pierce seemed genuinely surprised to see Santana, jumping slightly and pressing herself against the fridge. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned the milk. "I wondered why the light was on in here."

"Now you know."

Mrs. Pierce placed her hands on the dining table and looked at Santana's carefully written homework. "How are you?" Santana didn't expect that question. _'What're you writing?'_ would have been more predictable. The Pierces never failed to surprise her.

"I feel awesome for totally owning this." Santana tapped the paper on the table to indicate that it was what she was talking about. "Like, if I wanted to, I could honestly say, '_Take that, Mrs. Hagberg! I gots me one hell of a badass essay! In your face!_'"

"That's great, Santana!" Mrs. Pierce praised her, "I'm glad you're doing well in your classes. Keep up the good work!" Santana didn't even say exactly what the essay was about, and Mrs. Pierce didn't even read it. Santana didn't say anything about her test scores or GPA either, but Brittany's mother was willing to give praise and encouragement when Santana's own parents would only offer any reward after receiving a straight-A report card.

It was weird when people showed that they had faith in her. Santana still wasn't used to it, but she had to admit that she kind of liked it. "I will."

"Now that I know you're doing better than just fine academically, would you mind my asking how you are emotionally?"

Santana bit her lip and avoided Mrs. Pierce's gaze. The direct question made her uncomfortable. After recent events, Santana now had even less trust in adults. Mr. Schue… Coach Sylvester… her own parents… Santana resented them all. And she hated that damn Salazar guy. Even Shelby barely said anything when those Cheerios invaded the Troubletones choir room and mercilessly took away half their members.

Mrs. Pierce though, she was different. One of the few adults who never failed to show how much she cared. Santana knew she could trust Brittany's mom. "I'm bugged about a lot of things." She admitted, "like…" The words got stuck halfway up her throat.

"Like what?"

"Like Britt." Santana, still tense and uncomfortable, managed to continue, but stopped again.

"Like how she likes to brush her teeth while she showers sometimes?"

Santana laughed at this and how it was such a _Brittany_ thing to say. The two had so many similarities. It helped her relax somewhat, and of course the quick flash of the idea of Brittany taking a shower contributed to the slight improvement, too.

"Yay, I got you to loosen up!" Mrs. Pierce did a little victory dance before taking the seat next to Santana and changing the topic about as unpredictably as Brittany would. "So do you want to talk?" Then she added, "But if you don't, that's fine. I'll respect that."

Putting her pen down, Santana leaned back against her chair. "I think… I think I do sort of wanna talk to you about it." She toyed with her fingers on her lap and thought about how to put her thoughts and emotions into words. Mrs. Pierce patiently waited instead of pestering her to speak. Santana appreciated the time and silence she was being given to sort through her mind.

"I'm worried about the Troubletones." Santana finally said, "About how we're like six members short and Sectionals is like less than two weeks from now." If this member shortage happened a few weeks earlier, it wouldn't even be an issue. Brittany and Santana would have easily used the power and influence their popularity gave them to get _anyone_ to join. But now… Santana didn't know where they were on the food chain, and she didn't know for sure how much authority she still had as the Cheerios Co-Captain, if she still even _was_.

Mrs. Pierce nodded, unsurprised. "Brittany mentioned that. And I'll tell you what I told her." Santana raised an eyebrow and listened to what she had to say. "There are probably girls in your school who want to join. The trick is just to find them and convince them to face their fears."

Face their fears. That was so much easier said than done.

"What else are you worried about?" The Troubletones issue wasn't resolved yet, but Mrs. Pierce was already prepared to change the subject. Then again, what else was there to talk about in terms of finding members? It wasn't like there was much to discuss. The problem was more likely to be solved by searching the school instead of sitting around moping. So Santana did with Mrs. Pierce what she usually did with Brittany whenever she changed the course of the conversation- Santana went with the current instead of fighting it.

"My future." Santana was able to sum it up in two words before going into detail, "I still want to go to college… in New York… with Brittany."

"But…?"

Santana toyed with the corner of the paper that contained her essay. High school was a crazy jungle full of complications. All the drama involved in every kind of relationship with every kind of person within the walls of the school- it was never simple. But the world outside of high school… that world seemed even _more_ insane. Santana only needed to write a few essays like this and take a few tests to pass high school. But to pass in _life_? "I barely have any money."

What Mrs. Pierce said next wasn't what Santana was expecting. "I think you should still push through with that plan. By the way, I love Brittany, and I have complete faith in her skill at ordering take out, but she's a _terrible_ cook. I've heard that you on the other hand, you're quite comfortable in the kitchen." Mrs. Pierce patted Santana's hand, "And I don't want you girls to only be eating fast food junk when you come home from school to have dinner in your apartment together. You'll make sure that you'll both eat right, okay?"

"I—okay—wait, what?"

Mrs. Pierce made a dismissive wave with her hand, "I know you'll both get into a good college, that's not a problem. I'm more worried about your healths."

"Mrs. P…." Santana was still reeling from the shock of hearing the things that Brittany's mother was visualizing. She was completely sure about Brittany and Santana living and going to school together after graduation. More sure than Santana herself was. But was she really listening to Santana's problem? Which by the way involved making such fantasized images a reality? "I-I'm… I'm not quite sure you… you get my problem with that." Santana proceeded carefully, not wanting to offend Mrs. Pierce. Normally, Santana didn't really care about whether or not her words might hurt someone she was trying to correct. The Pierces were an exception. "For any of that to… to happen… I really need money that I don't have."

Again, Mrs. Pierce made that dismissive motion, "You can get a scholarship to almost any college you want."

"How are you so sure?" Santana asked, half wishing she could feel such optimism and certainty so strongly, half glad that she didn't because such hope was a big set up for disappointment.

"You're a dedicated student with impressive grades, you're a talented performer, you're a gifted athlete, you're engaging in _several_ extracurricular activities, at least two of which have placed in several competitions, _and_ you're the Co-Captain of the cheerleading team." The pride with which Mrs. Pierce made the verbal list caused Santana to squirm with a conflicting mixture of pleasure, embarrassment and doubt. "I _wish_ I had a list of achievements like yours when I was graduating from high school."

Santana avoided eye contact with Mrs. Pierce and tried to absorb this information. Looking at it from that point of view made the future… less bleak. The last time she had a talk about her life after high school, it was with her own parents, and her father had a lot to say about college dropouts and how such people got nowhere in life. It was focused on dire warnings of the consequences of failure.

This talk was more about the possibilities that were tied to her previous successes.

"Oh, and Santana…"

Santana braced herself, almost automatically expecting to hear something discouraging to make up for all the frighteningly encouraging words. She looked at Mrs. Pierce. "Yeah?"

"You should know that we're willing to give you any financial help you need to get where you want to go. And I don't just mean that literally, for places. But for your goals, too."

They didn't need to. They didn't need to help her, they didn't need to do anything for her. They didn't owe her anything. They weren't obliged to do any of that. Any of this. What did they have to gain by making such an offer? By _following through_ with such an offer? All Santana could think of saying was, "Why?" She knew that she should have said '_thank you'_ and expressed the most intense gratitude and promised to pay it all back. But the _why_ of it all was just too pressing to ignore.

"Why _not_?" Mrs. Pierce answered simply, before she leaned forward and added, "We love you, Santana. _I_ love you. You and Brittany have been best friends since you were little, and you were always there to protect her from bullies or cheer her up when she's down, or encourage her when she's nervous before a dance competition and doubting herself, or help her when she's struggling to understand her homework. You help her wherever and whenever I'm not enough. The bond between you and Brittany- that alone is already a convincing reason."

"And then there's the fact that _I've_ known you since you were a little kindergartner. You visit so often, I feel like I've watched you grow from the feisty little kid you were back then, to the strong woman you're turning out to be now."

Hearing this… Santana realized how this was a house where she could feel content. Where she could forget about the drama going on in school. She just had to leave behind the disgust of the cheerleaders, the hate and ignorance of majority of the students… she could leave that at McKinley and come… here. Home. Family.

This was a place that made her feel better instead of worse every time she stepped through the front door.

Mrs. Pierce's serious face broke into a smile as she went on, "You're like the daughter I never had to carry around in my womb for nine months." Lowering her voice to a whisper, Mrs. Pierce moved even closer, "And between you and me, that wins you bonus points."

* * *

><p>Quinn closed the car door behind her, dead set on buying several packs of cigarettes. If smoking in school drew too much Skank attention—particularly, the <em>Mack's<em> attention– then Quinn would have to do it on her own time outside of school. Maybe after this, she could also break into the Fabray's wine cellar. Unless it was New Year's or Christmas or a birthday or whatever special occasion, Mom hardly ever touched any of Dad's drinks now that he was gone from their lives. No one would notice if a bottle or two went missing and came back empty.

The convenience store was calling to her, offering the remedies, a quick lift of her spirit. An easy way to get through _it_.

This beats _talking_ about it. Quinn didn't want to discuss the emptiness in her chest with anyone. It was a dull ache last year, easy enough to ignore. Then Shelby just _had_ to come over and tempt her with Beth. It screwed with her head. And now Quinn had to deal with something more like a canyon or a bottomless pit.

Brittany and Santana had way too much on their plate, they didn't need to hear Quinn yammering about baby drama and showing them just how _crazy_ she really was. Mercedes… The last time Quinn and Mercedes had a decent heart-to-heart conversation must be more than a year ago. Being the one to reinitiate it after so long would demand too much effort Quinn wasn't ready to give. Besides, if the gossip she heard was right, Mercedes also had things to deal with and didn't need Quinn to add to it. Rachel was probably too busy following Finn around. And Puck… Puck was just too infuriating to talk to. He would probably blame her for everything that went wrong.

Maybe he was right.

Quinn was about to enter the store when howling laughter caught her attention. It came from behind the store, just beyond the light of the streetlamp. Normally, she wouldn't give a damn and simply steer clear and mind her own business. What intrigued her was that she found the voice vaguely familiar. Similar to a sound she heard before.

Her first assumption was that it was someone from school. But who?

When the laughter came again, she thought harder about it, trying to match the voice to a face. Definitely, it was a guy from school. But was it one of the glee guys? Quinn thought about Puck, the most likely of them all, but it didn't quite match. Finn… no. Artie? Definitely not. Besides, what the hell would Artie be doing out here so late?

"I'm fucking suspended, man! Can you like seriously believe that?" This time, words were the prelude to the laughter. Immediately, Quinn was able to put a face to the name. It was the hockey team captain, Rick the Stick, who had by now beaten Karofsky and Azimio's combined record of giving the most slushie facials to glee members.

"And… and I'm fucking pissed off! Like don't those stupid school people get that all I got going for me is hockey? And I'm fucking missing this Sunday's competition!" Quinn heard the distinct sound of shattering glass, as if someone tossed a bottle against a wall. "It's like a fucking waste of tax money or whatever it is dad yammers on about before sitting in front of the tv with a beer." The rant was then reduced to laughter, and Quinn realized that it was _bitter_ laughter. "Damn that bitch! Fuck her and her bitch."

The unexpected vibration against her thigh startled Quinn and yanked her attention away from Rick the Stick. Fishing her phone from her pocket, Quinn looked at the screen and saw Mercedes's name flashing.

It was a call. Should she answer?

Quinn came here to buy cigarettes. She didn't come here to eavesdrop on a hockey player complaining about punishment he probably deserved. She didn't come here to stand near the door thinking about _things_.

And she certainly didn't come here to stand and answer phone calls.

But… it was Mercedes. They barely ever spoke now… and maybe this _now_ was something important.

Apprehensively, Quinn answered the call and put her phone to her ear. "Mercedes?"

"Quinn, hi." Mercedes didn't sound too happy or excited. In fact, she sounded really upset. "I just… I just needed to talk to someone, and you weren't replying to my texts. And I'm sorry I'm calling so late and I'm really sorry if I'm interrupting anything."

"You're not interrupting anything." Quinn lied.

"Great!" Mercedes sounded genuinely relieved, and she also sounded like they didn't spend the last year barely exchanging words. "Look, it's about Santana. Did… did you know her dad _busted_ her face?"

Quinn glanced at her watch. It was nearly midnight. This was an open twenty-four hours place, but she wasn't exactly considering spending the night here. "Yeah… I did." Pushing the door open, Quinn walked in. She didn't precisely know where Mercedes was going with this conversation, and she didn't know how long it was going to take, but she decided that it would make sense to multitask.

"It makes me sick just thinking about it." Mercedes went on, "Like I didn't even notice until Sugar pointed out that Santana's make up looked weirdly dark around her eye. Remember Sam's black eye? That thing looked awful, it was swollen for days! I can barely imagine what Santana must've looked like when it was freshly hit."

Unable to help herself, Quinn cringed at the memory. "I saw her last Saturday… it did _not_ look pretty. Her knee was bandaged, too." She bought three packs, making eye contact with the cashier before giving the money.

"Wait, really?" Mercedes gasped. "Oh God. I thought she was limping a little yesterday, but I wasn't sure. Do you think it's still bothering her?" Quinn didn't even get to respond, because Mercedes barely paused before adding, "The shades. Damn, that must've been why she was being all Scot Summers with them yesterday."

"Yeah, probably." After receiving her change, Quinn left the store and got back into her car. All this talk about Santana was starting to make her feel awful about avoiding them. Maybe she should be trying to be there for them instead. The idea only made Quinn more uncomfortable. What could she say? What could she do? How could she possibly do anything to make things better for Santana?

"I mean, I thought I was going through some hellish issues now," Mercedes continued, and Quinn could almost imagine her shaking her head. "But what she's got to deal with… I dunno how she does it."

This was starting to feel too much like a guilt trip. Mercedes probably didn't mean it to be. Either way, Quinn didn't like how this conversation was making her feel. There was enough on her mind right now. "Well we're all going through our own shit, aren't we?" She was probably being selfish.

But that's just the way Quinn Fabray is, isn't it? That must be what everyone thought of her. Shelby after all was convinced that Quinn was completely incapable of putting her own daughter before herself. That was a mark of selfishness. That was what people saw. Why bother fighting it?

Everyone saw Santana as a bitch. Santana lived up to the reputation and didn't fight it. Everyone saw Rachel as a self-absorbed diva, and she didn't fight that reputation either. A lot of people saw Finn as an incompetent idiot, but he never stopped trying to be a '_good'_ leader. His efforts rarely ever pay off, and more often than not, he just ends up coming off as a douche.

So again. Why should Quinn bother fighting the crazy selfish image she had now? It was mostly true anyway.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Mercedes asked, and she sounded concerned.

It took a long pause for Quinn to try coming up with an appropriate reply. Something kept her from instantly lying and saying she was fine. "At least Santana's safe now at Britt's house." It was a badly done topic change, almost as unrelated and transition-deprived as something Brittany would say.

"Quinn." Unsurprisingly, Quinn's attempt at steering the focus away from herself didn't work. "What's wrong?"

"I'm about to drive home." This one was meant to be a conversation-ender. Maybe it would be more effective than a subject change.

"What the hell are you doing out so late on a Tuesday night?" Mercedes's concern was mingling with exasperation. Who was she to act like a nagging parent? Quinn could handle this. She thought it through. She made sure her mother was fast asleep before heading out.

"Don't you have a test to study for?" Quinn hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly. It was too late to take back now. She might as well go all out with pushing Mercedes away. "Mind your own business, Mercedes."

"Quinn, you can talk to me." Instead of lashing out with a retort to Quinn's snap, Mercedes carried on with the same worry-tinged tone. It only worsened Quinn's deepening guilt. "What's been going on with you? Please let me-"

Quinn hung up, just barely biting back '_Fuck off_!' She could say that to Puck any day, no problem. But saying it to Mercedes, who was only trying to help, felt wrong.

And hanging up on her felt like a horrible thing to do.

* * *

><p>The car ride to school was quiet. Santana seemed to be more deep in thought today, and Rory was just not talking. Brittany took it upon herself to break the silence.<p>

"I'm glad Rick was suspended." She said, bringing the incident up for the first time since it happened, "Thanks for telling us about it yesterday, Rory." He had told her about it last night, about how he overheard the suspension take place while he was walking along the hallways looking for her and Santana.

"I'm glad too, I guess." Santana didn't sound as enthusiastic as Brittany expected her to be. "At least we won't have to take anymore slushie facials from him for a while."

"An' I won't have t'keep lookin' over m'shoolder to see if he's there waitin' t'shove m'head into d'toilet." Rory added. Brittany almost forgot about how the hockey team took to bullying Rory ever since his first day at McKinley. She would have tried harder to stick up for him if she wasn't so busy feeling irritated with him for trying to manipulate his way into her pants. As much as Rory had his tendency to lie, he didn't deserve to be treated the way the hockey jocks treated people. The way any of the bullies treat anyone else.

"Yeah, but I bet he's gonna be even angrier once he's back and he'll be treating us worse than ever." Santana said.

Why did she have to be so pessimistic? Brittany reluctantly admitted that it was a valid situation to expect, but she believed it was better to dwell on how _at least for now_ things might be just a little bit easier.

Instead of struggling to come up with a way to prove Santana wrong, Brittany decided to change the topic slightly, "Who do you think summoned the Beiste?"

"I have a hunch." Santana said, but didn't give it right away. "But I'm not sure. And I don't even know why the hell he would care if it really _was_ him."

"Mike?"

With her eyes focused on the road, Brittany just barely saw Santana shake her head, "He wears plaid sometimes, come to think of it… but I don't think it was him."

"Finn?" Rory asked.

"Yeah, your beloved hero." Santana said, showing her bitterness quite obviously, "If your hitting on Brittany didn't tell my gaydar that you're straight, I would totally be going around convinced that you were planning on populating the ocean with Irish whales."

Brittany wasn't sure she liked the way this conversation was turning out. Rory, of course, was quick to defend the football quarterback. "Y'don't 'ave t'be so mean aboot Finn, ya know. He's gettin' enough hate from some o' d'New Directions memburs already."

"After what he did? It can't be enough."

Brittany was just about to intervene before the conversation could really develop into a confrontation, but her phone caught her attention. As they conveniently stopped at a red light, Brittany read the incoming text. It was from Amanda.

* * *

><p><em>Hi, Brittany. I'm still working on what you asked me to do. I think I've found a few Cheerios that think Santana's still cool even if there's the whole gay thing. And by the way, I'm really really sorry about what's about to happen and I hope you understand. I need to do this to avoid drawing too much attention to myself. It's bad enough that Susan's watching me like an eagle after I didn't leave Troubletones with her. I hope you understand. I'm really sorry in advance. Like really really sorry. :(<em>

* * *

><p>"Britt, green light."<p>

"What?" Brittany tore her eyes away from the screen, remembered she was driving to school and got the car moving before she pissed off the drivers behind them. "Sorry. I was distracted."

"Who was it?" Santana asked, at least showing no sign of still wanting to pick a fight with Rory about Finn.

"Just…" Brittany considered telling Santana everything, then thought better of it. Santana was a pessimist. If she found out that Brittany was trying to find Cheerios who still respected her as their captain, she would probably just try to talk Brittany out of it. Brittany needed to be sure, with a sure list of names to be able to convince Santana that not _every Cheerio_ hated her. "Just Amanda."

"What'd she say?"

Brittany answered honestly, but left out the details Santana didn't need to know yet. "She was apologizing about something. I'm not really sure what she was talking about." That wasn't lying.

"Maybe she's planning to leave the Troubletones and we're gonna be stuck looking for seven instead of six girls more." Santana let out an exasperated sigh and grumbled, "God, I can't wait 'till we're over all this and out of this crappy town."

"Amanda wouldn't do that." Brittany wasn't completely sure, but she wanted to at least give Amanda the benefit of a doubt. Santana might be wrong.

"You never know."

"I really don't think Amanda would just leave." Brittany continued to defend Amanda, even if it meant engaging in this debate with Santana. It was understandable that Santana had trust issues, especially now more than ever. But Brittany didn't think that they were necessary in this particular case. "She _knows_ we're desperate for members now."

"Britt, you can never be too sure." Santana warned her.

"Yeah, but I _really_ don't think Amanda would just _leave_." Brittany repeated, hoping it would get through Santana, and starting to feel frustrated. "I don't think it's something she'd do."

"Well I didn't think Susan would do… y'know… _what she did_."

"Susan and Amanda are two different people." Brittany insisted, but tried hard not to let her frustration show. It was one thing to be mistrustful of Amanda, and another thing to compare Susan and Amanda. She didn't like how Santana seemed to be equating the two girls, when they could not have been more different. What happened in the Troubletones choir room that day was a testament to the fact that Susan and Amanda were opposites..

"Susan was like my personal underling. Amanda's yours." Santana refused to drop the subject. "What if she's planning something, Britt? I don't want her to hurt you."

They were near school now, and Brittany found herself wishing they were there already. Being in this car made her feel strangely trapped, even if the car had nothing to do with it, and it was actually the conversation. It was becoming more and more like a confrontation and Brittany didn't like it. "San… I appreciate that you're looking out for me." She genuinely _did_ appreciate it, but she also genuinely believed that it wasn't needed. Or appropriate. "But I trust Amanda, and I think she's okay."

"I thought Susan was okay." Santana wasn't going to stop. "Britt, I think maybe you should-"

"Are d'two o' ya havin' a row?" Rory interrupted.

"I didn't understand a word of what you just said, Flannigong, or whatever the hell your name is, but if you value your miserable life, you'll stick a potato into your snout and stay out of this." This tension was also affecting Santana, and she was unfortunately taking it out on Rory.

Brittany tightened her grip on the wheel and breathed deeply before saying, "Ducks are like penguins without tuxedos."

"What?"

"I mean ducks are cool and swanky and stuff, but they don't need to look like they're wearing suits to be badass. Penguins are really jealous of them." It worked… sort of. Santana seemed to be deflating, pausing to think about Brittany's words instead of coming up with her next argument against Brittany's trust in Amanda.

The next time she spoke, Santana was a lot calmer. "So… what are you saying?"

They were in school now; it was only a matter of getting a good parking spot. And a matter of settling this and starting the school day calm and on good terms. "I'm saying…" Brittany parked the car and turned to look directly at Santana, "…that Susan is a penguin and Amanda is a duck. They're both birds, and they both seem cool because they're both Cheerios. But Amanda really _is_ cool and Susan just _pretends_ to be cool."

Santana didn't react immediately. Instead, she stayed in her seat, quietly absorbing Brittany's words. The pause was long enough that Brittany started to worry that maybe she thought of the wrong analogy.

Finally, Santana looked her in the eye and asked, "Are you sure? You really think Amanda's okay?"

Brittany nodded, "Trust me when I say that I trust her."

"I trust _you_." Santana said, "But _her_, I still doubt."

"I'm not forcing you to trust her, I'm not even asking you to not-hate her." Brittany reminded Santana, "I just want you to keep in mind that she's not Susan. Okay?"

Now, Santana was the one who nodded. "Okay."

Pleased by the way things were going now, Brittany smiled, kissed Santana's cheek and said, "Thank you."

Santana flashed the briefest of smiles before diverting Brittany's attention to the people outside. "Speaking of which… what's happening?" They were all Cheerios, gathered in front of the car. Brittany didn't fail to notice the fact that they all had slushies in their hands.

Hoping for the best and expecting the worst, Brittany said, "Let's find out." She got out of the car, while Santana and Rory did the same. Rory wasn't involved in this and he could have easily just walked away from the apparently imminent conflict, but he didn't. Instead, he took a stand by their side. Brittany found herself feeling touched by the quiet show of support.

"Neither of you are tainting the Cheerios uniform by wearing them." One of the Cheerios said, "Good." _Tainting the Cheerios uniform_? They were accusing Brittany and Santana of tainting the uniform? If _anyone_ was tainting the uniform it was _them_, these narrow-minded cheerleaders, for behaving so _horribly. _Brittany was disgusted by it.

"But just so nothing's vague," Susan showed herself, "We're going to give you a warning."

"Don't show up to training today." Bethany "Bleach" Bennet spoke up from her spot between Susan and the first Cheerio to speak. "And ever."

"Why the hell are _you_ telling _us_ what to do." Santana took a step closer to Brittany, but addressed the Cheerios with a tone full of confidence, masking the uncertainty and insecurity. "_I'm_ the one who gives the orders around here."

"If gay and amnesia are connected, then you need to be reminded of the fact that we don't want you as our captain anymore." Susan retorted coolly, taking a step forward, while the rest of the Cheerios moved to surround the three of them. "_Stop trying, Lopez._"

Brittany found it in herself to speak up, positioning herself closer to Santana as she did so. "You know, Coach Sylvester is the one who gets to choose who is and isn't the captain. What you're all doing is mean and it's bullying. It's stupid." For emphasis, she added, "And that's coming from me."

The circle around them grew smaller, bringing back the trapped feeling Brittany experienced earlier, but to a worse degree. Susan spoke to Brittany, "Yeah, you _would_ know what is and isn't stupid. You're about as retarded as the captain Coach Sylvester chose. And Becky."

It stung to hear this. Brittany scanned the pack of cheerleaders surrounding them, looking for at least one pair of eyes that didn't look so full of hate and disgust. She saw that most of them held stone-faced expressions- blank and cold. Then her eyes fell on Amanda. The younger girl didn't look the same as everyone else. Discomfort was more obvious on her face than anything else. Brittany took that as a consolation. That, and the realization that this wasn't the _entire_ team.

The crowd around them seemed huge. But not _that_ huge.

Not all the Cheerios were here.

"You." Santana was fast, practically turning into a blur of movement as she lunged forward and grabbed hold of Susan's uniform. "Take back what you said about Brittany." There was something dangerous about Santana's softly spoken threat that actually scared Brittany as much as it worried her. "Now." The cup of slushie Susan was holding hit the ground, staining the pavement with an uncomfortable shade of bright red.

"Get your dirty fucking hands off me!" Susan put her hands on Santana's wrists and tried to pull herself free.

Maintaining her fiercely tight grip on Susan's shirt, Santana jerked her roughly once. "_Apologize_." Twice. "_Now_." Three times.

"San…" Brittany looked around uneasily. What happened to Rick could just as easily happen to Santana if a teacher walked in on this scene right now. The thought of Santana getting suspended for defending Brittany was nerve-wracking. This could turn from bad to worse at any moment. "San, please calm down a little…"

Santana didn't let go of Susan, didn't even look over her shoulder to face Brittany, but she _did_ answer, "No, Britt. I can't just _calm down_. Not after she called you the R-word. That's so much worse than the S-word." She shook Susan one more time. "And if this bitch doesn't take back what she said I'm going _all_ Lima Heights on her ass."

Most of the Cheerios had let go of their faces of hate and replaced them with looks of varying degrees of confusion, uncertainty and fear. A few took on angry, tense, defensive stances, but they weren't the majority. None of them looked like they were going to do anything anytime soon though. Amanda was just wide-eyed and frightened, Bennet looked like she was too shocked to process what was happening, and Susan's struggling was futile against Santana's unwavering grasp. Rory just stood where he was, paler than she'd ever seen him before.

And it wasn't like Santana would listen to anything any of them had to say anyway. Brittany knew _she_ had to say something before Santana did anything that could turn into a huge regret. "San, _please_."

"Give me one fucking good reason I shouldn't get my fists working on _reshaping her face_ like _right now_." Santana's snarl was the most hostile, angry sound Brittany ever heard from her before. This was worse than when she slapped Finn, and worse than when she beat up those two boys more than a decade ago. "Because dammit Britt, she shouldn't be allowed to get away with _treating us like this_." The sound of the last four words was different- louder, but not so much enraged and forceful as it was hurt and almost breaking. Santana's voice shook when she gasped it out.

"You'd be no better than Rick." Brittany said the first thing that came to mind. "Think about how they could suspend you, San. If that goes on your record, it might keep you from getting that scholarship we used to always plan about. And we won't be able to study in New York and… and…" Brittany wanted to continue, to talk about how it could affect their chances of going to a great school together. To talk about the dreams she had of their future together, of sharing an apartment while they're studying, and then having successful careers, and then getting married and having a nice house with two cats and a puppy and their first child. But such hopes and dreams were _sacred_. Brittany didn't want to talk at length about it in a circle of judgment ready to crush all the faith out of them.

"…and Lord Tubbington might become obese."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Susan yelled, still trying to squirm away from Santana.

"Just keep your freakishness away from us all." By the time Brittany realized what was happening it was too late to do anything. Bennet took advantage of the pause Santana took to listen to Brittany and delivered the slushie, directly hitting Santana's face.

From the way Santana released Susan with a gasp and recoiled, it was obvious that she was taken completely by surprise. She let out another gasp and a yelp, rubbing at her eyes. While Santana was vulnerable and literally couldn't see what was coming, Bennet dealt further damage in the form of a hard, strong push.

Santana lost balance, staggering back. This time, Brittany was able to take control of her body and react, catching Santana before she could fall far enough and hit the floor.

"Dykes! Freaks! Retards!" Shaken by what Santana did to her, Susan spat out a string of words.

"The two of you don't belong on our team." Bennet said, and looked around at the Cheerios. Most of them looked stunned and horrified. Brittany wasn't sure if it was more because of Santana or Bennet's behavior. At a nod from Bennet, they all seemed to remember that they had cups in their hands. Then a tidal wave of slushie came upon Brittany, Santana and Rory, drenching them.

* * *

><p>Quinn took the long way to her locker after class, passing various detours and constantly backtracking, just to avoid the members of both glee clubs. Earlier, she sat as far away from Puck as possible, and rushed out of the room at the sound of the bell. He kept trying to get her attention every time the teacher turned his back on the class. Quinn didn't know for sure what he wanted to talk to her so desperately about, but she could safely guess that it had something to do with Beth andor Shelby. Neither of which were topics Quinn wanted to discuss with him.

Additionally, she was avoiding Mercedes, Brittany, Santana and Rachel. Quinn still wasn't ready to face them. And she had a feeling that they were the ones most likely to notice how she kept squinting and wincing at flickers of light and various sounds in a way that a person who was one hundred percent sober _wouldn't_. If they _did_ notice, they would be dumping a truckload of questions at her. Mercedes and Rachel would probably be using accusatory tones, making their disapproval apparent. Brittany and Santana… well Quinn knew they simply didn't need to add her list of issues to their own swelling directory.

The moment she finally reached her locker, Quinn moved quickly, hoping none of the people she was avoiding would notice her. She grabbed the book she needed, stuffed in the one she didn't, slammed the locker door closed and flinched at the loud boom reverberating in her head.

"Quinn, there you are!" Quinn tensed. She tightened her grip on her book and turned around to see Puck coming over to her. "I gotta talk to you."

"I don't want to." Quinn tried to walk past him but he moved to block her way. The expression on his face was more desperate and devastated than she'd ever seen him before. It made her hesitate and then decide to give him the time of day. "Fine." She sighed. "What?" Up close, at this distance, she could see the dark circles under his eyes and if she wasn't mistaken, the smell of alcohol was drifting around him.

How Puck and Quinn spent the previous night might just be more similar than she was willing to admit.

"We're both banned from seeing our daughter again." Puck says, choking out the words in a voice she didn't find familiar. A voice that was broken and deprived of all the arrogant confidence Noah "Puck" Puckerman was known for. Quinn wasn't sure she wanted to continue hearing _this_ voice. This distressed, upset, shaken voice. She wasn't sure if she _herself_ could speak normally at this point. On top of that, her headache was starting to get worse. "Quinn… Quinn w-we messed up. We messed up big time."

There was nothing to gain and nothing to lose. With a voice that was about as unsteady as Puck's, Quinn whispered, "We… we did." This was the second time she was admitting it out loud. The first was when she asked Ms. Corcoran for another chance. Another chance she didn't get and quite frankly didn't deserve.

"Quinn, let's try again!"

Hearing this, Quinn recoiled and stepped away from Puck, "What the hell, that's just perverted!" Such a suggestion was the last thing on Quinn's mind, and it was disturbing to even _think_ about a scenario like that. "I am not going through those nine months again!"

Puck frowned and shook his head, "Dude, _no_! I didn't mean try having a baby again!" Quinn relaxed slightly when he made the clarification, but she tensed again the moment he moved closer to her, taking away the distance she just created. "I'm saying try to get her back again."

Try getting her back again? Try going through underhanded schemes to steal a baby from a selfless mother who was going to raise her well? That wouldn't accomplish anything good and Quinn could see that now. The past several nights spent enveloped by thoughts of Beth and Shelby were telling her just how much Quinn Fabray was an unfit mother. A self-absorbed, untrustworthy person like Quinn should never be anywhere near a perfect child like Beth.

Quinn met Puck's distressed eyes and hoped he would see sense. "No. That whole plan to get Shelby into trouble and get Beth back… it's stupid, Puck. Stupid and wrong and what do you think Beth will get out of that?"

"She'll get both her real parents, that's what! _We_ could raise her. I'm her father and you're her mother. She's _ours_!" Puck all but yelled it out in the center of the hallway.

Rubbing her forehead with her fingertips didn't drive away the throbbing feeling all over her head, and neither did it ease her rising frustration with Puck. "What do you think it'll be like for her?" He was acting _so_ irrationally. It almost scared Quinn to hear him talking like this, see him behaving like this. Because barely a week ago, she had been _exactly_ like this. The horror and dread she felt at seeing this grisly reflection of herself was the reason why she spoke sharply now, reprimanding herself as much as Puck. "All she'll get are two teenagers who can barely take care of themselves, let alone a _child_. And what kind of example are we setting for Beth? That it's okay to lie and to manipulate people and to destroy reputations? That it's okay to take whatever you want without any thought of how the person you're stealing from will feel, without thinking about how much that person loves the baby they're raising? We'll _totally_ be getting trophies for being the Number One Top Parents of the World."

"But… but she's _ours_!" Puck was running out of arguments now, she could hear it in his pleading, frantic whine.

"You said so yourself." Forcing herself to calm her tone somewhat, Quinn reminded him of what he told her just last Saturday. "Beth was meant to be with Shelby."

For a moment, it looked like Puck was going to argue. She watched him grow tense, his hands clenched into fists, his brow furrowed, his mouth opening to contradict her.

Then the words seemed to finally get through to him, reminding him of whatever it is that caused him to come to his own conclusion, whenever it was he originally realized the truth. With a sigh, Puck lowered his head as his shoulders fell. "You do get that means we're _never_ seeing our baby again… right?"

"She's Shelby Corcoran's baby now. Not ours." It was true. And it hurt like hell to admit it.

Quinn didn't know what ached more right now- her pounding head or her constricting chest. She _did_ know that she didn't want to watch Puck crumble completely. And she didn't want _herself_ to fall apart in front of him. When it looked like he surely wasn't going to say anything else anymore, Quinn walked away. They were done talking about this. There was nothing left to gain from dwelling on it.

They should move on.

Quinn walked on. But she had no idea how she was going to move on from this.

* * *

><p>This wasn't happening. This was <em>just<em> not happening. It was a blur. Or maybe she was making it into a blur. At this point, Santana wasn't sure if it was one or the other. All she knew was that she was detached after the cold, heavy liquid collided with her face like an icy punch and soaked through her clothes and clung to her hair. Detached as the cheerleaders turned and walked away, as Brittany led her through the maze of people and hallways and backpacks and lockers to the bathroom, as Brittany carefully cleaned her up.

When Santana found herself face to face with her reflection and saw the damp hair and the blackeye that was only noticeable if you were looking for it, she could barely remember how she got from the parking lot to _here_. She hadn't been aware of how many people they pushed aside to get here as fast as possible, how many people must have been staring at them, how many people must have been judging the dyke cheerleaders.

But she was aware now.

Aware of the pain and the rage. Santana hated them all, for being so smug in their stupid red and white uniforms, for being _safe_ in those uniforms, for acting so high and mighty. That was supposed to be _her_ in the uniform, taking confident strides with her chin up and taking crap from no one. That was supposed to be _her_ in a uniform that worked almost as well as armor in a school like this. That was supposed to be _her_ in a position of power- safe and in control. That was supposed to be _her_ using that ridiculously valuable uniform to get a scholarship to get the hell out of this school.

A scream that didn't quite sound human tore itself from Santana's throat, embodying how angry she felt about this situation. Why did people like those Cheerios exist in the world? Why did her parents react so… _the way they did_? Why couldn't the Cheerios react to Santana and Brittany like how New Directions reacts to Kurt and Blaine? Why couldn't Mr. and Mrs. Lopez react to their daughter's sexuality the way Mr. and Mrs. Pierce react to their Brittany?

Santana slammed her fists against the mirror, blaming it, imagining it represented all the people who were just _too blind_. The reflection of the sink was Susan, the stall doors the Cheerios, the walls the jocks, the ceiling her parents. The whole damn mirror was the entire New Directions for not caring when Mr. Schue kicked her out of glee, for thinking more about how she burned the stupid free purple piano instead of how she was in a position where she couldn't say no to the most terrifying teacher in this school, for replacing her so easily with Rory, for not bothering to say anything when Finn Hudson yanked her out of the closet and shoved her into the spotlight for everyone to point at and stare at and judge, for not being all over her with comfort and support and other sappy shit when they would have done everything they could if it was Kurt or even _Blaine_.

And of course, there was Santana herself reflected there.

Maybe, if she wasn't such a bitch, they would have cared more. If she was more like Brittany, they would have tried to be more patient, more forgiving, more open with her. Maybe if shew as more like Quinn, being on honor roll, getting straight A-s all the time… maybe Mom and Dad would have acted differently. Maybe if she sang more like Rachel Berry, then New Directions would have been more interested in keeping her in the club.

Maybe this wouldn't be happening if she wasn't Santana Lopez, the most insensitive, rude, heartless bitch in McKinley.

Arms wrapped themselves around Santana, pulling her away from the glass that was already cracked in some places, and pressing her against a body that was comforting with its softness and reassuring with its strength. Things were starting to blur into each other and form blotchy shapes and colors. They began to change form as memories drifted towards her until they just enveloped her. They were the memories she kept locked away during the day. Memories of the explosion of pain that spread over her face and then tightly clutched her frantically beating heart. Memories of the dryness of her throat and how she choked on words and disbelief. Memories of how there was yelling- telling her that she was a disgrace. Sinful filth.

Memories of how she felt strong hands pull her off the floor and push her against the kitchen counter while a booming roar told her she was no longer welcome in the house where she grew up. Of the way it felt when her back met the counter. Of the way it felt like claws were squeezing her chest as the nightmare took place.

"I tried." She tried and searched those enraged eyes for a flicker of the love that was supposed to be there. It wasn't often expressed, but it was _supposed_ to be there. What Santana couldn't comprehend was that it wasn't there. "I couldn't find it. Why wasn't it there?"

A voice floated by- muffled, distant and barely audible. She thought she heard her name being called.

Santana stared, helpless, at a woman's back that refused to turn around and show a face that should have held compassion and provided reassurance. "No face. No eyes. No heart." That's what it felt like. That's what it looked like. Just some solid mass like the stone walls of an empty room. A room with no doors.

"Santana." The voice tried again, more clearly this time, sawing its way through the haze that kept her trapped in this nightmare. "San, I'm here. You're safe."

Safe. How could she be safe in a place where the people who should be accepting her would rather judge her? Judge her and keep her outside, standing in front of a closed door that might never open to her again.

"I hate it." Santana said, "I hate what they say to us. What they say behind our backs. I hate having to hide. I hate having to fight. I hate the Cheerios. I hate the jocks. I hate _them_. Why can't _they_ have been like yours? Why can't _they_ talk about futures and apartments and dinners and eating right and kindergarten and daughter?"

The kitchen and the images faded away until the bathroom returned to sharp focus, and Santana was in Brittany's arms, curled up on the tiled floor, trembling. The images might have gone away, but the piercing emotions still felt fresh- still open, bleeding wounds.

"Just let it out, Sanny." Brittany encouraged her, swaying back and forth slightly and making Santana almost feel like a child again, a distressed child being cradled. "It's just like when Lord Tubbington's coat is changing and he has to shed all his old fur so that his nice new fur can feel all nice and better and not crowded."

"I got this coming to me because I'm a coward, huh? A coward and a selfish bitch." Santana said, "Maybe it'd be different if I was more like you, Britt. All nice and patient and everything I'm not. Or maybe I should've been getting epic grades like Quinn and it'd be different. Or if I sang like Rachel."

"Santana, you're awesome as Santana. You don't have to be more like me or Quinn or Rachel." Brittany stopped rocking to lean against the wall. "And San, you can't keep hanging around in that thought-world. If it happened… then it _happened_. It's in the past now and we can't change it anymore. It's like trying to change your clothes yesterday."

It was true. Trying to alter what happened in the kitchen that night, or in the parking lot this morning, or in the Troubletones choir room the other day… it wasn't possible. It happened and that's that. But why did she still feel this way and why did her thoughts keep going there on their own? Especially at night when she tried to sleep?

"Britt, it's hard not to think about it. We all know I'm not easy to love. I'm rude and bitchy and I break things and-"

"San, stop that." Brittany didn't speak sharply, but Santana could sense that she wasn't pleased. Which was great because now Santana could just add_ 'upset Brittany_' to the rapidly growing list of you suck. "You're being too hard on yourself."

Santana didn't know what to say to that.

"If it counts for anything to you, _I_ love you. I love Santana Lopez and I wouldn't want her any other way."

Snuggling closer against Brittany, Santana kept her eyes on the floor as she whispered, "Of course it counts." It did. But at the moment, Santana was torn between guilt over upsetting or maybe even frustrating Brittany and grief over how the past week was just hell. And there was the anger. It was always a part of her, and even if it was less, almost gone when she was with Brittany, it was gaining strength in the past couple of days.

"If you weren't the way you are, I wouldn't be here right now." That was an exaggeration Santana found hard to believe, but she was too exhausted, too drained to express her disbelief. She listened to Brittany without interrupting. "I'd probably be hiding in my room every hour of every day of every month of every year waiting for Santa to give bullies so much coal that they can't open the doors of their house and go outside and go to school."

Brittany touched Santana's jaw with smooth fingertips that coaxed her into looking up from the floor and at those blue eyes instead. "If you weren't Santana, you wouldn't beat up all the boys who would pull my hair when we were little. I love that about you. I love how you get mad when people call me stupid because you know how I feel about it. You _get_ me. You call me smart and make me feel like I'm the brainiest bicorn in the whole wide universe. I love how you're not scared of telling someone to their face that you don't approve of what they're doing. _They're_ the stupid ones because they don't listen to you."

There was nothing but sincerity in her eyes. Brittany firmly, passionately believed in everything she just said. The certainty she had about it helped Santana feel less like an evil person everybody hated. Santana did a lot of bad things, and she often let her temper get the best of her, and pushing people away with barbed words was what she did best. But Brittany always took the time to dodge every trap and burrow under every wall to find the person behind the vicious, vicious words.

"You feeling any better?"

Santana nodded, "Yeah, a bit…" Their fingers were interlaced, fitting perfectly together like there was no other place they belonged. The feel of it reminded Santana that even if she didn't exactly belong anymore in the Cheerios or New Directions or… _there_, she was welcome and at home with Brittany and the Pierces. They were more like family to Santana than anyone else could ever be. It was a bittersweet thought.

"Thanks, Britt." Santana smiled slightly, to show Brittany that she genuinely was feeling a little less upset and angry. "And I love you too, y'know."

"I know." Brittany said, "But knowing it doesn't keep me from feeling like I'm dancing in sunshine and fields whenever you say it out loud. Or when you sing it."

"D'two of ya arr a real sweet pair."

The out of nowhere comment startled Santana into letting out a gasp of shock while her body flinched and moved closer to Brittany. She spotted Rory sitting at the far corner of the bathroom, hugging his knees. His hair was damp and all over his forehead instead of going upwards like it usually did. "Pixie boy, what the hell are you doing there?"

"Brittany towld me I could clean m'self up in 'ere." Rory gestured towards his stained shirt before saying, "Were ya goin' t'start shiftin'?"

"Rory, please speak English. San and I can't understand Irelingish." What Brittany said actually made Santana smile slightly as she recalled a movie they watched together that had a similar line.

Not explaining immediately, Rory used his fingers to brush his bangs back and away from his eyes. The uncomfortable way he looked side to side just made things feel awkward. "I wus askin' if ya were goin' t'start kissing." In a hurry, he added, "But I dawnt mean dat in any offensive way or whutever. I mean if ya were goin' to, then bate on! But if ya wurrent, then i-it's fine, I mean what y'do together is up to ya and—gawd, I'm makin' a right bags o' this, aren't I? I should've just stayed quiet. Okay, I'll just-"

"You can stop talking now." Santana told him. "I mean I don't have any potatoes on me to stuff into your mouth to help you out, but I think I can find an alternative. Like socks or something." She watched him bring his knees closer to his chest and mumble something that might have been an apology. That didn't turn out well. Santana only wanted to keep him from further making a fool of himself with his rambling, and to kind of express her irritation towards him for going on and on and making things so weird.

To try showing that she meant no harm, Santana said, "It's fine, leprechaun. You're okay here." Then she realized that if Brittany let him clean up here, he must have been inside this bathroom with them the whole time. She looked down at her hands, one of them still being held by one of Brittany's. The dull ache she was initially too distracted to be aware of strengthened into pain now that it was being put into focus. It wasn't agony that could keep her from moving her fingers, but more of a slight pain that was a little hard to ignore, but still possible. Bruises would probably appear later. There were a few small cuts on a couple of the knuckles on her right hand and just one on the left.

Brittany's thumb lightly stroked the back of Santana's hand. "San, you okay?"

"Sorry you had to see… that… that freak out." Santana whispered the apology.

"A lot is going on, and sometimes you have to let it out or you'll explode like a confetti cannon but with feelings instead of pixie dust." Brittany said.

Rory just shrugged. "Dawnt wurry aboot it. It happens."

Watching Brittany stroke her hand, Santana couldn't help but wonder how much time would have to pass before she finally stopped having the nightmares. Today was the worst so far. The fact that Rory was witness to it just made Santana uncomfortable.

But why was he even here in the first place? Now that she was thinking about it, Santana couldn't figure out why he hung around instead of heading straight to class. There was absolutely nothing to gain from staying with them. "You could've just run off when the Cheerios showed up. Why didn't you? It would've been the smart thing to do."

"It would've been d'wrong thing t'do." Rory answered in a sure, certain way that confused Santana. If he was the kind of guy that would try lying and taking advantage of a girl he thought was gullible and easy, why would he care about the '_right'_ thing to do? Santana tried to think of an ulterior motive Rory might have had. Was this some attempt to impress Brittany?

Or was he honestly doing something he thought was right? "Why'd you bother?" They were living under the same roof and connected through Brittany. Santana had to be as sure as she could ever be that the likelihood of him betraying them as low.

He paused, as if to understand this question and look at it from several angles. "I…" Rory looked directly at Brittany, "I admit dat I still tink y'are grand, Brittany…" The statement didn't need a lot of dissecting to reveal that Rory was still hung up on Brittany and Satana didn't like it. "And… and Santana, you're kinda terrifyin'." At least he knew she wasn't one to be messed with.

What he said next wasn't anything Santana would have expected. "But I thawt we've become friends… righ'? An' I wouldn' just leave friends just like dat. Brittany said we're like a family… aron't we?"

"We are." Brittany confirmed automatically.

* * *

><p>She was in the choir room. She was supposed to be sitting at the back of her classroom having her Spanish class and avoiding making eye contact with Mr. Schue. Instead… she was here, in this place she was supposed to be avoiding. This place she tried to abandon more than once before. This place where a couple of times a week, she spent an hour and a half with a varied bunch of people with different backgrounds and dreams and hopes and plans and statuses. The only thing they had in common was some bond that brought them back to each other despite all the times they would steal from, backstab and hurt one another. Some bond that united them and helped them face the judgment always being thrown at them by the rest of the school.<p>

Quinn looked from the elevated steps occupied by empty chairs to the blank white board. After thinking about the people that normally filled this room, she thought about what it would be like once they left. Not just one person leaving, or that temporary quitting and coming back thing that almost all of them have done at least once. But all of them gone. _Permanently_.

Rachel would probably leave Lima and never come back. She'd be lighting up the world with her extraordinary performances, singing on a big stage where she belonged. The name Rachel Berry would be written in gold on posters and billboards and everyone would know it and easily be able to attach a face and an extraordinary voice to it. Kurt would surely be doing the same. Blaine would either be joining them or off fighting for LGBT rights since he talks about it almost all the time. Tina and Mike would either be performing like Kurt and Rachel or saving lives as doctors or winning court cases as lawyers. She could see several record-breaking albums with Mercedes's face on the cover. Heck, maybe even Puck, Sam, Artie and Rory would have a couple of bestselling songs on iTunes, too. Or no, Artie would have award-winning films tagged under '_directed by Arthur Abrams_'. Puck and Sam might be in a band on tour. Maybe Finn and Rory would be with them. And hell, Lauren might probably succeed in her ambitious and obsessive fight for fame. Brittany would be with Santana in New York or some other place where marriage between them is a possibility because if those two don't get hitched sometime after high school, then the concept of lasting love is nothing but a myth. Brittany would be in a place where she would dance her heart out and be admired and appreciated and adored for it. Santana, with the way she's never afraid of using her mouth… she could be a lawyer if she wasn't planning to become a singing celebrity like Mercedes or Rachel. Whichever works for her.

All of them had _something_. All of them would be out there, doing something big for themselves. None of them would be stuck here in Lima waiting tables. None of them would come back to this room and sit on those chairs because they could do better.

The loneliness _burned_. It ate away at her from the inside out. Quinn was supposed to have Beth. Innocent Beth. Beautiful Beth. _Perfect_ Beth. So that even if Quinn never get the hell out of Lima, she would have Beth to call her own, to love her unconditionally, to be the one flawless part of Quinn's life that could never go wrong.

"Damn it, Shelby was _right_." Quinn groaned with frustration directed at herself. Those were the most self-centered reasons ever to be conceived by a human being. It was all about Quinn instead of being all about Beth like it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be about making sure Beth was _happy_ and _safe_. About putting her own feelings and her own body _second_ to Beth.

All of this _sucked_.

Quinn hated going through all of this fear and pain and loss and loneliness. Hated how hopeless her future looked. How inadequate and unimportant she felt. How she went from being the most popular, most worshipped, most wanted girl in the school to… _this_.

The box where they kept the sheet music from Bryan Ryan was within sight. Without really thinking, Quinn went straight for it and delivered a powerful kick that knocked it over and sent its contents flying out.

"Quinn, what's going on?"

The question froze Quinn in her tracks. Without having to turn around, she already knew Rachel Berry caught her attacking New Directions property. Not for the first time, Quinn wondered if God just _loved_ screwing with her.

* * *

><p>The way Santana looked earlier, so angry and hurt, battering at the mirror, was still fresh in Brittany's mind. The fact that their next class wasn't one where they were together made her reluctant to leave the bathroom, but she knew that they had to get out eventually. They really should stop skipping classes. That and there might be people waiting outside.<p>

They were having a light conversation now, about how Mrs. Hagberg was the most hardcore teacher for handling so many subjects every school year and still being able to give them all their grades on time. Santana was still subdued, and Brittany wasn't sure if she was still thinking about Mr. and Mrs. Lopez or Rory's motivations for staying instead of fleeing or the Cheerios' threats and insults. At least she was engaging in the conversation though. When Brittany and Rory were talking about being like family, Santana only nodded, and Brittany took it as a cue to change the topic. And that's how they got to this conversation.

"Sometimes I think she has one of those time turner things like in Harry Potter so she can teach all those classes and check all those papers without getting swamped." Santana said, bringing up a theory they discussed together last year. "Britt said it's the only logical explanation."

Rory grinned, "Yur right, dat makes perfect sense!"

"Guys, while I think talking about Mrs. Hagberg's time turner is legit," Brittany decided it was time to redirect the conversation. "I think we should get to class soon since we don't have time turners ourselves." It would be so awesome if they did, though. They could go to the mall and hang out or sneak over to breadstix or stay in the janitor's closet for a few hours and then turn back time to attend class. Best thing ever.

"Yeah, you're right, Britt." Santana agreed and Rory nodded.

"Will you be okay?" Brittany spoke softly into Santana's ear, so only she would hear. She stroked Santana's hands, carefully avoiding the small cuts and the bruises that were starting to appear. The cuts were short and didn't look deep at all, but Brittany would feel more comfortable about them if Santana saw the nurse. That might require an explanation though, and knowing Santana, she was likely to consider it an option only to be taken if absolutely, completely, no-more-choice necessary.

Actually, at this point, Brittany also wished Santana could maybe talk to Mrs. Pillsbury. She was nice and she would probably be able to listen to Santana and maybe, possibly, hopefully help her through this. Bringing the topic up with Santana would be a challenge though.

"I'll be fine." Santana answered, and briefly squeezed Brittany's hand before standing up, bringing Brittany with her. "Let's get going so we can make it in time for second period."

"Aye, I dawnt want t'miss history. Learnin' about yur country is kinda fascinating." Rory did the same, walking over to them.

Brittany opened the door slowly and took a peek outside, to make sure the coast was clear. If anyone saw Santana, Brittany and Rory walking out of a bathroom they were locked into for an hour together, that could only lead to a bunch of awkward questions and assumptions.

Seeing that no one was down the corridor, Brittany exited the bathroom, followed by Santana and Rory. Brittany felt a hand brush against her palm and recognized it as Santana's, asking to link pinkies. Glancing at Santana, Brittany complied, and silently wished they didn't have to separate for their next class.

Instead of sticking around to be a third wheel, Rory spoke up. "I… I'll get goin' now. See d'two of ya after class!" He waved to them before leaving.

They still had a few turns to go together before going opposite directions, so Brittany and Santana maintained the link as they walked. Brittany thought about something to say or talk about. If only she and Santana could be back home where they could talk more openly and Santana would be more comfortable about sharing what's on her mind. Or Santana could lie down and rest because right now she just seemed really drained and distant.

As they were rounding a corner, Brittany was about to bring up Quinn's recent aloofness but was cut off when they literally bumped into someone.

When the person apologized and stepped back, Brittany recognized who it was and felt her heart sink.

"Watch where you drag your blubber around, Finnkenstein!"

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> I'm not sure how long from now the next update will come up. (Ideally next Saturday/Sunday, but I kind of have a lot of plates _(studying in an art school)_ due this week, so no promises).

(and I'm not sure how much longer I can resist the urge to plot a Faberry fic.)

I apologize for any typos I might've missed.

And imaginary brownies for whoever knows the movie that Britt referenced.


	11. Chapter 11

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: I swear, this fic needs a leash. I was supposed to skim over these events, but they ended up building themselves up and growing and evolving and getting way waay ahead of me.

This chapter wasn't revised as often as the previous ones and I'm not sure how I feel about it... But I wanted to get this uploaded before I go on a school-sanctioned activity this weekend that involves farming in a place where shootings sometimes take place because our government doesn't keep the promises it makes to its farmers. _(lol yeah welcome to my country, yo) _So if I don't update for like two months, maybe it's coz I died or something. (knock on wood)

(okay, that was probably a little offensive to the victims. I'm sorry)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

* * *

><p>"Santana!" Finn's eyes widened as he looked down at them, then glanced from one girl to the other. "I… um…" He put on that dopey expression with his eyes narrowed and his mouth half open. If he had something to say, Santana wasn't really up to hearing it.<p>

Her thoughts drove her back to the last time they interacted in a hallway. Of how he dragged out the venom-laced words until she was paralyzed and blood poured out of the gashes he made on her heart. Of how choking on fear felt like bile rising to her throat and burning its walls. Of how he got to walk away from that with his world unchanged while hers was turned completely inside out.

Santana swallowed, and made a huge effort to push away the memory and remind herself of the pinky that was still linked with hers, offering support and reassurance more powerfully than verbal words ever could.

"I don't have any plankton on me to feed you, so unless you've got something important to say, just close your mouth and get the hell away from us." Her own string of vicious words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, an automatic defensive reaction called forth by her rising tension.

Finn closed his mouth and glanced down the length of the corridor, looking as if he really was about to turn away from them and keep walking. Santana was just about to inwardly rejoice until he returned his gaze to her and spoke, "Are you… y'know… okay? After the thing with the hockey guys yesterday?"

How many people were witness to that? It only heightened Santana's discomfort to know that there were people that might have watched it. She didn't know if her uneasiness was because those people saw and did nothing or because they saw her at a weak point, shoved against lockers by a jock. Maybe it was both.

Either way, she wasn't going to show that it was getting to her. Still projecting the wall of spitefulness to hide her distress, Santana said, "You heard about that, blubberguts?"

Finn flinched at her words, and for just a second, -a second and no more than that because she didn't allow herself to keep it going- Santana regretted her tone and words. "I… I saw." He said softly. "I looked for Coach Beiste when it looked like it was gonna get really bad."

So it _was_ him. Santana couldn't understand why. She also didn't know what she should say in response. If he was expecting a '_thank you'_, then he should know that she sure as hell wasn't going to say anything like that. She wasn't ready to let go of how much it hurt to hear him cutting her down in the hallway. She wasn't ready to completely stop thinking about how if he never opened his mouth, the ad never would have happened, and she never would be in this hellhole of a situation.

"I-I… I know we're not really… y'know… on friendly terms or anything like that. But you're still one of us glee kids. A-and… and I look out for my glee friends, y'know." Hearing this just deepened Santana's resentment. Who did he think he was? Some sort of hero? Santana hated how he grinned at her and sounded like he was proud of doing some good deed that deserved praise and worship. Hated how he thought that maybe one good little deed would completely make up for what happened to her after his previous bad one. Hated how he sounded like he was genuinely expecting her to fawn over what he did and show intense gratitude.

"Looking out for your glee friends?" Santana repeated, and severing the link to Brittany, she curled her hands into fists. Finn raised his eyebrows, showing just how awkward and surprised he felt about her response. "Since when did you _care_ about _me_? Since when do you _look out_ for _me_? I don't mean anything to you, remember?" She threw back at him the words he'd said right after their horrific night together. The same words he repeated when Rachel was on the verge of making a big deal about it.

The surprise in Finn's eyes was combined with fear as he slowly retreated backwards, while she continued to speak, pursuing him at his chosen pace. "Really, Finn. Were you _looking out for me_ when Mr. Schue kicked me out of glee on the first week? Or when you outed me in the hallway? _Or when the ad came on_?" Her voice was starting to tremble, and she had to take a breath to steady it before ending with, "Or when I was _thrown out by my parents_?"

"I-I'm… I'm…" Finn shifted his weight from one huge foot to the other. "It wasn't like you were being the easiest person to get along with that week. And the weeks before that." Santana hated how he managed to turn it around and pin it on her. She hated how a very small part of her kind of agreed with him.

"You were a bitch that time, and you know it." Gaining confidence and taking advantage of her silence, Finn continued with his retaliation, "Heck, you've been a bitch most of the year. Rory told me what you said to him on his first week here. That was real foul, Santana."

"What're you talking about? San and Rory are friends now." Brittany tried to speak up, but her words seemed distant right now, barely a whispered echo.

"She said it'd be better if he disappeared." Finn answered Brittany before returning his focus to Santana, reinforcing the strength of his counterattack. "_Who says that to a person?_ And did you hear what she said to me that day in the hallway? Damn it, I know I'm not badass like Puck or full of abs and muscle like Sam, but do you have to rub it in my face like that? And if you're so mad at New Directions, why are you just taking it out on me? You've got something against Mr. Schue, take it up with him then! It does piss me off you know, when you're always tearing me down."

Finn's words managed to feed the small part of Santana that agreed with him until it grew. It _swelled_. It was the part that told Santana that she deserved this and it would have been different if she was more like Brittany or Quinn or Rachel. That all of this was the universe's punishment for her and her bitchy behavior. That this was all the times she bullied Rachel and other unpopular people turning around and giving her the punishment she deserved. This was her breaking up Sam and Quinn, Finn and Rachel, Artie and Brittany coming back to get her. This was what she got for breaking Brittany's heart so many times last year with _cowardly_ behavior.

"But that's _still_ no excuse to out anyone."

Not the voice she expected. Not a defense she thought she'd ever hear out loud and spoken to Finn. Stiffening, Santana watched Kurt walk towards them, eyes locked on Finn. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. All she could do was stare dumbly as Kurt met the eyes of the taller, broader quarterback and said, "I've _been there_, Finn, okay?"

"No, you haven't." Finn's voice gave away the anger he was struggling to restrain. "You're not leader of a glee club that keeps fighting among themselves and doesn't respect you. And with _Santana_," He turned to glare at her, "She's trying to make it a big deal that we kicked her out at the start of the year when it's her own fault she burned that damn piano."

"Finn-" Kurt started.

"No, Kurt. You _haven't_." Finn interrupted. "I'm supposed to-"

Kurt's voice rose in pitch and volume. "I _have_." When Finn finally shut his mouth, Kurt continued, "Fine, I haven't been in a place where I'm a supposed leader but I _do_ get treated badly. Did you just forget what was happening to me last year?" At this, Finn looked away. "And I don't know how many times we have to go through this. Outing never was, never is and _never will be_ the answer."

"But if you just heard her-"

Cutting off Finn's defense, Kurt said, "Okay, think of it this way then. If you think so poorly of Santana, then was it really necessary for you to stoop even lower than she did, playing an even more foul game? Whatever happened to all those times you talk about wanting to be a leader and aiming to act like the better man?"

Santana watched Finn's gaze move from Kurt to Brittany to Santana several times before focusing on Kurt. "Yeah, well sometimes people should get a taste of their own medicine so they'll know what it feels like."

This loud groan of exasperation left Kurt as he said, "Damn it, Finn! It's not the same thing!" Then, as if deciding that shouting wasn't going to work, Kurt took a breath to calm himself and let it out slowly. When he spoke again, it was at a softer volume, and his eyes seemed to be searching Finn for _something_. "When will you learn to just get over yourself and put your pride aside?"

Santana looked at Finn, to see his reaction. He mirrored the shock she was feeling right now. This was as unexpected to him as it was to her. He didn't respond to Kurt right away, and took the time to stare at the floor, teeth clenched, jaw set.

"Let's just leave." Brittany whispered to Santana, holding her hand and intertwining their fingers. "This is between Kurt and Finn now."

"Okay." Santana didn't want to stay here and argue with Finn anymore. It was just too tiring now. She didn't want to have to go through the rest of the day, to pass through the hallways and catch glimpses of the _looks_ that any Cheerio was surely going to throw at her. She didn't want to have to run into any more guys trying to offer their _help_. On top of that, she had the thoughts in her own head to deal with. The conflicting thoughts of how much of a jerk Finn was and of how much of a bitch Santana was.

She just wanted to go home and lie on Brittany's bed and sleep it all off. Maybe she was going to wake up and realize that everything was just another long nightmare.

"Santana." They were halfway down the hall when Finn called her name. With Brittany's hand still holding onto hers, Santana paused. "I… I…" Was he going to go on again about how he was looking out for her and being a hero? Santana realized she didn't want to hear it and decided to keep walking.

"I hope things work out for you!" He called after her.

It was Brittany who stopped, turned around and walked up to Finn. "Just _please_ shut up and leave her alone, Finn Hudson. Don't make things any worse than it already is." She stretched herself up to her full height, looking directly at him, not afraid of _confronting_ him. "You've done enough damage. Just leave us alone."

"I'm just trying to-"

"Just _stop_ trying." Brittany interrupted him. "You helped this mess happen, Finn. I don't see how you _hoping_ for it to fix itself will be of any use now."

* * *

><p>Not daring to face Rachel, Quinn folded her arms across her chest and chewed her bottom lip. Would saying that she tripped over the box work? Probably not, considering the fact that the box was really out of anyone's way. Hunching her shoulders, Quinn readied herself to feel the verbal thrashing sure to follow. Rachel was probably going to berate her for messing with sacred New Directions property. For being absent from rehearsals and remote during class.<p>

It was coming any minute now.

The silence and the suspense of it all was messing with her head and worsening her headache and making her want nothing more than to push past Rachel and run as far away from this room as she could get without passing out. Quinn would have done that if it didn't involve turning around and seeing the look on Rachel's face that would most likely show anger if not disappointment. Either would make Quinn regret the momentary act of unrestrained emotion more than she already did.

When she felt a hand touch her shoulder, Quinn immediately stiffened, every muscle tensed. But upon growing aware of how gentle the contact was, she slowly relaxed her body, though her emotions still ran high and she still wished she was anywhere else but here.

"Quinn… what's going on with you?" Her voice was so full of concern and it sounded so genuine. Quinn's initial reaction was shock and confusion. The Rachel that Quinn was used to was driven by only two things: ambition and Finn. And everything that fit within the radius of those two things was always a big deal. Ambition was tied to singing which was tied to glee which was tied to this choir room which was tied to that damn box. And Quinn's attendance record. So why wasn't she getting the lectures she was expecting?

"Quinn, please… talk to me." Rachel was practically pleading now. "If there's anything I can do to-"

"There isn't anything." Quinn interrupted before Rachel could make any attempt to offer help she couldn't give. There was no getting out of this situation without going through the necessary process of letting go of Beth. Shelby was the worthy mother, the _real_ mother. It still burned holes into Quinn to think about it, but she was more or less getting around to accepting it. And the sooner she got over this issue, the better. The sleepless nights were starting to affect her attention span during class.

For a moment, Rachel didn't say anything. Quinn couldn't begin to guess what might be going on in Berry's mind, especially without facing her. In the short pause, Quinn thought about whether or not she should trust Rachel and finally open up.

But the mere thought of it made Quinn fearful and uncomfortable. The fact remains that talking about it meant really thinking about it and really dwelling on it and really feeling the pain at its full strength. An experience like that was just too intense. Quinn wasn't willing to go through it. The methods she used last night were a lot easier.

And a lot faster.

The pressure leaving her shoulder told Quinn that Rachel moved her hand away, but instead of leaving the room, she did the opposite. She went in front of Quinn and said, "At least talk to me about it. I mean…" Rachel's eyes briefly and quickly darted towards the box before returning to Quinn, "You obviously have a lot you need to express."

"You have _no_ idea." Just as the words left Quinn's mouth, a sense of déjà vu went over her.

"I'm worried about you." Rachel spoke again, with that same concerned tone that Quinn couldn't help but question. A short pause passed between them, probably one where Rachel expected Quinn to give a response that never came. When she continued, Rachel sounded suddenly uncomfortable and uncertain, "Look, I-I… I know we're not that close. But we're sort of friends sometimes… and-and like I said the other day, if you need anyone to talk to-"

Quinn cut her off, unintentionally sounding harsh, "I know." The hurt look on Rachel's face made Quinn regret the snappy way she spoke. In an attempt to brush it off and steer focus away from herself, she said, "Santana's the one who needs friends right now."

"I worry about her, too." Rachel said.

Raising an eyebrow, Quinn wondered how truthful Rachel was being about that. "Are you? You seemed more concerned about sectionals last time we talked about this." Again, it came out meaner than she meant it to be. To keep the guilt at bay, Quinn told herself that she was being snappy with Rachel both because the throbbing ache all over her head was getting worse and because she was sort of trying to defend Santana against Finn's girlfriend.

They were _really_ insubstantial reasons.

Instead of putting on that kind-of-pathetic hurt puppy face, Rachel lifted her chin and defended herself, "Quinn, that's not what I meant. I was merely expressing my disapproval for Mr. Schue's tendency to give us weekly assignments that have nothing to do with upcoming competitions that we really need to prepare for." The defensiveness faltered when she said, "But the Santana thing… I'm not even sure at this point if we're pushing through with it. The internal conflict our glee club is going through right now is kind of becoming the bigger concern. You weren't there, Quinn."

To keep herself from saying anything stupid to reason out her absence, Quinn bit her lip and let Rachel go on and talk uninterrupted. "Some people started panicking and worrying about whether or not you joined the Troubletones, and others were saying that they'd understand since you'd want to be closer to Santana. Then the discussion went to Finn, and he wasn't there either. It turned into this big argument about how we might be being too hard on Finn and about being more sympathetic towards Santana despite her attitude and about maybe being too loud and excessive about our plan and needing to focus more on finding two last minute members and preparing for sectionals and a lot of other things I'd just rather not get into detail on."

Rachel stopped to regain her breath before speaking again. Finn wasn't kidding about all those times he'd whine to anyone who would listen about how she could talk on and on for ages. Quinn tried not to visibly wince at how each rushed out word felt like a hammer banging against her skull and intensifying her wish to crawl into bed and pass out. "But I'm not saying and I never did say that I'm blind and deaf to Santana's struggles. My dads have seen the ad –I haven't yet- and they think it's the most repulsive, immoral thing ever for anyone to use someone's sexuality like that and broadcast it like that. And I agree."

"It is." This time, Quinn meant to put the venom into her words. She couldn't begin to comprehend how vile a person could be to commit such an act.

Until she thought about how she came so close to doing something similar to Shelby. It had nothing to do with sexuality and outing, but it _did_ involve destroying Shelby's reputation for Quinn's personal gain.

And the emotions redoubled their efforts, slamming their battering ram against the doors with renewed vigor that only made Quinn want to lie down with her head under a pillow. She rubbed at her temples in a pointless, futile attempt to make it go away.

"Exactly." Rachel continued talking, "And I really am getting very worried about Santana, honestly. She's always been… as Mercedes would so frequently and so bluntly put it, a toothpick. But lately, she just looks so thin and frail. It was a gradual change last week, when this whole situation with her began, but seeing her after her absence last Friday and the weekend…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

Quinn was opening her mouth to speak, but Rachel was first, and from the look on her face, she was getting really into the topic, "I-I mean she still walks around like she owns the school… but there's something different about it… it isn't so convincingly frightening anymore."

When Rachel paused again, Quinn seized her chance, "You _do_ know that your boyfriend kind of caused it all, right?" By the way Rachel practically delivered an entire speech, Quinn could believe that the concern was genuine. But she still couldn't quite figure out how Rachel could still be Finn's number one supporter after these recent events.

"I don't believe that what he did was right." Rachel said with certainty, and after stopping to inhale sharply, she continued at a slightly higher pitch. "But for the sake of preserving our relationship, we have chosen to agree to disagree on the matter."

Quinn raised her eyebrow again. "That's it?" She took a step forward, closer to Rachel. "Just like that?" For the sake of _preserving her relationship_, Rachel was just going to go on and act like Finn played no part in this, and he was guilt-free and exempted from consequences. The sudden burst of anger that came rushing to the surface of Quinn's consciousness wasn't something she expected, but she went with its flow. "You know what, Rachel? Just forget it. Santana doesn't need fake people who'll just pretend to care about her. We really should drop Mr. Schue's stupid idea. None of you really give a damn about her anyway."

A voice in Quinn's head asked her, '_Oh, and like you do?'_ but she tried to ignore it. Quinn tried not to think about how she herself was avoiding Santana when she knew that now more than ever, Santana needed supportive friends at her side. Quinn was being anything but supportive this week and she didn't like it. But the fear of ending up in a situation that may involve facing her demons if they noticed that something was up with her… Quinn couldn't handle it.

The anger increased. The throbbing, too.

"Quinn, it's not like that!" Rachel raised her voice, irritation written all over her face. The shrill sound seemed to echo inside Quinn's head, bouncing against the walls of her skull. "I just-"

"You're just too busy loving Finn to be able to see anything outside your damn relationship!" Now, Quinn wasn't sure anymore if the anger she felt was really about Rachel or about herself. To add to that, the confusion and irritation were making Quinn dizzy, forcing her to adjust her footing to try maintaining her balance. "Why are you always so _frustrating_?"

"I wasn't too busy with my relationship to see that something besides Santana is clearly getting to you!" That was a blow that nearly knocked Quinn over. She lifted her left hand to rub at her forehead.

Why couldn't this just end already? "_It doesn't matter!_" This argument with Rachel was exhausting and it wasn't doing anything but raising Quinn's temper and worsening the hangover. It was time to put a stop to this conversation. "Just _stay out of it_, Rachel!"

Trying her best to maintain balance, Quinn turned her back on Rachel and started walking away. At this point, Quinn just _really_ wanted nothing more than to be in bed, hiding under her comforter until all the problems were _gone_.

Quinn barely walked three steps before Rachel, with uncharacteristic forcefulness, took her by the arm and pulled her back. The motion of it made her stomach churn. "Quinn! Tell me what's wrong!" Still taken over by the moment, Rachel placed both hands on Quinn's arms and said, "I told you at the start of the year that I should've spoken up when you cut off your hair and when you cut yourself off from everyone and hit rock bottom. Clearly, even if your hair is blond again and you're singing with us again, you're still in that dark place, maybe even worse off now. This time, I'm not going to just stand by and let you fall further down. This time, I'm speaking up, Quinn. This time, I'm doing something about it."

With that Rachel Berry skill of talking for long periods of time, she was able to say it all with barely any pauses for breath. Now, she took a quick break of several seconds to inhale, before she went on at a much softer, gentler tone. "Let me in… tell me what's wrong."

"I AM!" Quinn shrieked, seizing Rachel's forearms for balance as nausea took a seat next to the headache and dizziness. "_I'm_ wrong." The sour, dry taste clawed at her throat while her stomach squirmed and considered emptying its contents. Quinn tried to swallow it away, but it only felt like putting sandpaper through her esophagus. "Wrong for Beth."

"Quinn…" Rachel whispered, softening her grip on Quinn's arms. Quinn on the other hand, did the opposite and tightened hers, because right at this moment, it felt literally and figuratively like the world was being rocked to its core. She used her hold on Rachel as an anchor and wished the ground would steady itself and stop making her head spin.

"I didn't think I'd ever see her again. Now I _know_ I'll never see her again." Quinn heard her own voice come out soft and shaky and defeated- not unlike how Puck sounded earlier this morning. "And I _know_ I don't deserve to."

Feeling more unsteady than ever, Quinn let Rachel lead her to the nearest chair and sit her down onto it. "How can you be so sure?" Rachel took a seat next to her. "You make mistakes, but that's what everyone does. I don't think it means you don't deserve to see Beth."

Mistakes. Quinn made a hell of a lot of mistakes in such a short time. These weren't small, easily fixed, _I accidentally crossed the L instead of the T_ or _I spilled the last carton of milk_ mistakes. These were huge, horrible, irreversible mistakes. "I had my second chance and I _wasted_ it." There would be no other chances to follow that huge mess. It was all over now. And it felt like having stones being hammered against her chest and barbed wires tightening their coils around her heart.

It _hurt_.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

It fucking _hurt_.

Before she knew it, Quinn was pouring it all out. The dam was broken now and everything was rushing out in a tidal wave. She talked about her confused feelings for Beth. She confessed to trying to steal her from Shelby, detailing the tactics she tried, the calls she made, the traps she set. She narrated the two confrontations that made her realize that Beth was meant to be Shelby Corcoran's daughter and how bad it _hurt_ to think about it. She talked about the emptiness that sucked potential happiness out of her before she could truly enjoy it. She revealed the loneliness, fear and despair she felt when she thought about the future and being left behind and achieving nothing in life.

And Rachel listened.

Rachel Berry didn't speak. She didn't interrupt. She didn't comment. She just let Quinn speak and _listened_.

It was weird and bizarre. But it was also refreshing. Kind of like Prom night. Quinn was opening up about things she could barely even admit to herself. There was something about the experience that was both cathartic and exhausting at the same time.

When she ran out of things to say, the hazy blur of memories that enveloped her as she spoke slowly faded back into the choir room. Quinn realized she was leaning heavily against Rachel, on a very damp blouse sleeve. Rachel had one arm around Quinn's shoulders while the other toyed with her hair.

Any other time, this would have almost been funny, considering their negatively competitive, hate-riddled history with each other.

"Quinn, you're going to survive and overcome this." Rachel finally started speaking again. "And I'm telling you again that you're more than just a pretty face. You're more than just a girl who's made mistakes. You're more than what happened in the past. You're more than what you see in the mirror. You're more than what you think you are."

"I screw everything up."

Quinn felt the arm around her tighten its grip. "That's not true, Quinn and I know that you really, truly, definitely will overcome this. I believe that your future is bright, and full of opportunity."

"I don't." If only she could be as sure about that. All Quinn saw was a lifetime of cheap jobs and loneliness. She saw a future where she would either die alone and unloved, or if she ever got married, it would be just like her mother's- a fake and feelingless Perfect Family ad that would end with infidelity and disgrace. There was nothing bright about that kind of future.

"You are an intelligent person, Quinn." Rachel didn't seem willing to give up her belief. "You'll make it out of Lima and get into a great college and be successful in whatever career you choose." In an attempt to cheer Quinn up, Rachel added, "Unless of course you're aiming for broadway, because then we'd have to be rivals and you know what I'm like when I compete against people."

"Yeah." Quinn didn't feel as amused by the statement as Rachel might have liked her to be.

Rachel sighed and stopped stroking Quinn's hair, but still kept an arm around her shoulders. It was then that Quinn realized how soothing the feeling had been. The touch wasn't anything major, but it was a gesture of comfort. A small sign that reminded Quinn that some people _did_ give a damn about her life and what she did with it. She found herself hoping that Rachel wouldn't move her arm away and break the contact.

"How about..." Rachel was speaking again. "Think of it this way. Why don't you _try_? I mean you're so focused on being afraid of the future, why don't you try and reach out and grab it yourself? If you want a bright future, go and get it. Fight for it. You did everything in your power to be popular last year and the year before that. If you can use that energy to do everything to be successful, you'll get there."

High school was different from the real world. Being popular was different from being successful. But Quinn was reluctantly starting to see that there was some sense to Rachel's rambles. The fear that consumed and controlled her might always and forever be part of her, but at least it would be easier to subdue if she was actively pursuing her future instead of awaiting it. And pursuing it by doing things more productive than trying to steal a baby.

When Quinn stayed quiet, Rachel continued talking, "You have grades higher than most of the lazy, directionless slackers in this school. That can help you get into colleges that people here don't even have the intelligence and awareness to dream about."

"And about Beth…" Just when Quinn was starting to feel a little less horrible, hearing Rachel say the name brought most of the pain back. Quinn winced. "About being able to visit her again… I'll do something about that. Give me a bit of time, but I'll be able to fix it."

* * *

><p>This was just like those scenes in movies where the lead walks right into the trap and it's the most intimidating, frightening thing ever. It was like when Harry walked into the Forbidden Forest alone to face Voldemort. Except of course Brittany wasn't a horcrux and her parents were alive and well and Santana wasn't a redhead and there were no trees in the locker room and all the Cheerios had noses.<p>

To calm her nerves, Brittany thought about Santana. She was doing this for Santana. Santana, the most awesome person in this school, in this town, on this planet.

Just after the Finn thing, Santana actually admitted that he sort of had a point and she was being horrible towards Rory ever since he came here. Since they needed to get moving or risk being late for class, Brittany didn't have a lot of time to reassure Santana that it was in the past and Rory was their friend now. It seemed to sort of work when they parted ways, though Santana looked like it was still on her mind.

Then during lunch, Santana ate a little, but just barely. They didn't get to dwell on the issue though, since the break was spent discussing their options for potential members with Mercedes and Sugar. Mercedes seemed really distant and distracted though, and Brittany still couldn't figure out what it was. She also looked like she barely got any sleep last night. Sugar on the other hand was really optimistic and said that she was planning to buy them a few members.

Brittany's phone pulled her away from her thoughts, demanding attention. She opened it to see Santana's reply to a previous text Brittany sent about being late to meet after class because she had to talk to someone first.

* * *

><p><em>Alright, Britt. I gotta talk to someone too anyways. See ya soon! Miss ya.<em>

* * *

><p>Relieved that Santana's text wasn't setting off any of Brittany's finely-tuned alarms, she replied with a "<em>Can't wait. Miss you too!<em>" After, she read Rory's reply to a similar message, saying that he also wouldn't mind waiting, and that he would stay near the car.

Brittany pocketed her phone and returned her focus to the mission at hand. This was for Santana. This was risky. This was scary. This was probably insane. This was most likely conflict-triggering. This was something Brittany wanted to do herself. Something she felt she should do.

There weren't a lot of cheerleaders on the field yet. They always followed a routine that only slightly varied in timing depending on how late their previous class dismissed them. Some of the early birds and kiss-ups would be the first on the field, stretching and showing off. Becky would be by Coach Sylvester's side. Everyone else normally would still be in the locker room, dropping off their things, preparing their towels and water bottles and engaging in mild gossip before five minutes to the exact time to begin training showed up on the wall clock.

Hesitating at the entrance, Brittany mentally readied herself for the experience with several deep breaths. She was going to get through this. Talking to a few Cheerios wasn't an impossible task. There was no need for fear. This was just a little conflict, not World War III. No big deal. Just fine. Achievable.

Brittany walked into a scene that was just as she expected. Idle chatter and gossip filled the air as the Cheerios readied items that would lower the chances of passing out due to dehydration while others retied their ponytails to ensure that their hair was perfect and others put away their backpacks because books and notebooks were unnecessary during their cheerleading practice. With a sigh of relief she just barely held back, Brittany realized that Bennet and Susan weren't here.

Amanda was, though, and she was one of the first to notice Brittany. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Brittany didn't miss how the freshman took a hurried step forward as if to greet Brittany, and then stopped herself and held her position. From the way her wide eyes locked on Brittany, it was obvious that she didn't take pleasure in this morning's slushie session.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing here?" One of the Cheerios from this morning closed her locker with a bang and looked Brittany up and down. There was malice in her voice that Brittany immediately disliked. No matter how much she would rather assume the best in people, there were times when she was just better off not fooling herself.

"Brittany, are you joining us today? Is Santana with you?" This question came from another Cheerio, one that wasn't there this morning. It took a moment of thought for Brittany to recall that the girl's name was Emily Stewart. She didn't sound angry or disgusted at all. Quite the opposite, she almost sounded a little concerned.

Just as Brittany was about to speak, the nearest Cheerio pressed her face close to Brittany's in a way that was clearly meant to be intimidating, and it kind of worked. "We told you not to come." Brittany wasn't aware that she was backing up until she bumped into a locker. "Are you _looking_ for trouble?"

This wasn't unexpected. Brittany had prepared herself for this. She recalled the excuse she carefully worked on all day and delivered it as innocently as possible. "I had this really bad headache this morning and I took all the pills in the bottle to make it go away and now I dunno which is the right away away from here." From the looks on their faces, Brittany could see that it was working. The agitated girls looked more irritated by her projected stupidity than her mere presence now. "I think the pony that I talked to a while ago was lying to me when he pointed me this way because he had this really shifty look and he was wearing glasses and a sombrero and those two looks just really clash."

It worked like a charm. Most of the cheerios just rolled their eyes and went back to what they were doing before she arrived, deciding that it wasn't worth the effort to try conversing with someone they believed was too incompetent.

Brittany didn't waste the few short minutes she had before cheer practice started. She went straight to Amanda.

"Are you mad at me? I'm really sorry!" Amanda squeaked.

Before the younger girl could start rambling again, Brittany held up a hand to signal her to stop. She had to make the most out of her time, so she went straight to the point. "I get it. You had to show that you're one of them." Brittany smiled at the relief Amanda showed, "My friends and I have been there before." Who could forget the struggles the football players had to face last year and the year before that? Brittany, too, remembered that there were several instances in the past, when she was much younger, where she had to do things she didn't exactly take pleasure in just so that she could fit in with Quinn's crowd.

"Thank you and I'm sorry!" Amanda did a little bounce.

"Pierce, w-when are you getting the heck out of here?" They were interrupted by another Cheerio, one that leaned against the locker and glared at Brittany. She was one of the Cheerios from this morning, and the facial expression she wore now was convincing, and the pose almost was too, but Brittany noted how tense her arms and hands were, and the way her eyes kept darting towards the entrance. This could very well be just another example of someone doing something they didn't quite agree with just to show that they're '_one of them_'.

"Why do you want me to leave?" Brittany asked directly.

The girl didn't answer right away, looking from Brittany to Amanda to the entrance. She shifted uncomfortably and bit her lip. Brittany watched her and waited, hoping that this girl could figure out that what happened this morning was _bad_. That Santana and Brittany had feelings just like anyone else despite one little trait that too many people didn't have the patience to understand. That Santana and Brittany weren't any different now than they were before the ad came out.

"You're screwing with Amanda's head. The kid doesn't need you trying to convert her."

Brittany raised an eyebrow and tried not to let how annoying that was get to her. "I wouldn't want to convert her." How people could assume such things and believe they were being logical was beyond Brittany. And they called _her_ stupid. "Amanda doesn't need to end up being treated the way you treat me and Santana. I wouldn't wish that on her. Ever."

"You… you deserve it." Now, the girl couldn't even make eye contact with Brittany.

_Deserve it_? Brittany had to take a short pause to keep herself from blurting something out because that was the worst argument she'd ever heard so far. As she took the time to recompose herself, Brittany became aware of several eyes and ears trained on her. She sensed their curiosity and interest. And probably confusion since the girl they were convinced was Santana's brainless sex buddy was right now actually engaging in a relatively intelligent conversation. For a moment of quick and sudden panic, Brittany nearly blurted out something about ducks and cats just to lighten the mood, divert the attention and lower the pressure.

"Right. Okay then." Successfully overcoming the rush of panic and pushing it away, Brittany straightened up to her full height and looked down at the girl. "I deserve to have slushies thrown at my face because I'm not afraid of singing and dancing in front of people that hate my friends and me." She tried her best to keep her voice level, when the truth was that on the inside, she just kept feeling _that anger_ again. When the panic left, the anger took its place. It was like swallowing bits of the sun and feeling it burn her up from the inside out. "I deserve to be treated like Shrek just because I've found my Fiona and we're perfect for each other." Okay, that part wasn't exactly her most amazing piece. The last thing she needed were badly photoshopped pictures of her and Santana flying around.

Hoping to wipe that mental image out, Brittany quickly continued, still using an even tone that was just a little bitter, just a little hurt, just a little annoyed, but overall composed and calm. "I deserve to be told by teachers that my grades would be better if I just stopped showing up to class. I deserve to be treated like my opinion and my thoughts and my feelings don't count because I'm _stupid_. I deserve to be laughed at just because I like different things and I think differently." She glanced at the entrance for a sign of Bennet or Susan, found none, then continued looking at the other girls and saw that most of the ones from this morning were still doubtful, a few were still glaring at her and unconvinced. "Becky deserves to have us all backstabbing her and calling her mean names. Becky deserves to have only one friend in this school. Coach Sue."

They were squirming. This was making them uncomfortable. Maybe that was a good thing. "Becky deserves to have a hard time keeping up in class. Becky deserves to see us look at her like she's this weird bug we don't want anywhere nearby. Becky deserves to be treated like a freak because she _chose_ to be born… born like that. She chose to be like that, huh? Am I right?" More squirming. But the unconvinced girls' frowns deepened. "And Santana deserves to have people laughing at her behind her back just because she knows what to say to get us off our lazy butts and get the choreography right."

That last one made some of the girls look like they actually were starting to feel some genuine guilt. No one was raising their hands and agreeing with the things that Brittany was saying. No one was speaking up. Brittany took that as a good sign. A sign that maybe, possibly, hopefully, they'd stop acting like unicorns that lost their horns because they twisted and abused their specialness until they become nothing more than horses ganging up on and harassing the true unicorns. Brittany wished that it would be just like in the story she told Kurt, that these Cheerios would do something good and be more accepting of Santana and earn their horns. And it would unite them as a herd that was in sync. An unstoppable team. The very reason why the Cheerios were champions.

Because at this point, with all the disunity and harsh behavior, and alienating Brittany and Santana, their chances of winning anything were doubtful. Especially since Coach Sylvester was probably too busy focusing on her own campaign to be able to give the Cheerios one hundred percent attention.

The heavy silence was almost starting to hurt Brittany's ears. Deciding that they got a long enough pause to start thinking a little, Brittany continued, "And Santana deserves to be yelled at and pushed around just because she doesn't let anyone talk badly to me. Santana deserves to have all of you betraying her just because you found out this one little fact about her that isn't even really a big deal. Santana deserves to be treated like a gross rat with a disease now. We both deserve to have you all hating on us." The more she thought about how unfair they were being to someone they were supposed to respect as their leader and as their teammate disgusted Brittany. Santana was amazing at every stunt they pulled and every move they made. They had absolutely no good reason to push her out of the team other than their own unicornphobia. Homophobia. Whatever. The label of it didn't matter. The essence of it, the discriminating nature of it was what mattered and what she disliked the most.

"Y'know, I had this stupid idea that maybe we were friends and part of the same team called the Cheerios." As she said this, Brittany was struck by thoughts of New Directions. They were supposed to be a family, but instead of protecting each other and helping each other through what was supposed to be a big year, they had Santana leave at the start of the year and they pushed Mercedes into leaving. It was true that they let Santana back in a few weeks later, but that was only after Brittany constantly and continuously talked them into seeing it from Santana's point of view. The point of view of someone under Sue Sylvester and too powerless to stand up to her because the woman can be the like the scariest psycho ever. The Troubletones was supposed to be like their new, next-generation family, but now it was broken.

Brittany wouldn't go so far as to say that she considered the Cheerios as a family. But she _did_ feel strongly about them because when they performed and trained, they worked as a single unit, moving in sync with each other. It was a special feeling of being a part of something, fitting perfectly into the puzzle. Being the completely correct piece in the completely correct place.

And of course the parties they had after winning every competition was a heck of a lot of fun. And though she didn't see them as super close best friends, Brittany saw them as friends. But given recent events...

"I was just really really _stupid_ to think that, wasn't I? Oh, and Santana and I both deserve to be kicked out of the team even if we choreographed most of the winning routines, right?" Brittany felt this sense of pleasure when some of them bitterly looked away because they knew she was right.

"Yeah. Okay. If San, Becky and I deserve being treated like this, then I would never ever _ever_ try to get Amanda to be like any of us." Brittany looked at Amanda, who was uncomfortably staring down at the floor. "Because she _deserves_ to be a Cheerio." If being a Cheerio meant being able to get away with anything and remain untouched by consequences or any sort of harm, then Amanda deserved that '_safety_'.

Brittany took a step towards the girl that started this whole conversation. "And you _deserve_ to be a Cheerio. Right?" Because she was so good at fitting right in and being rude and insensitive towards anyone outside of the popular circle.

She could see their faces. They didn't know what to say. They didn't know what to think. They didn't know how to think about this. But the point was they there were _thinking_. Brittany made sure to as much as possible keep out of the conversation all of the mentions of magic and fantasy and ducks and cats because they didn't have the capacity to understand it. They could only take things literally, at face value. They didn't care to read into things the way Santana took the time to.

This was the best Brittany could do to get them confused enough to _think_ but not _too_ confused that they would disregard every word as stupid, pointless nonsense. If this didn't work, then Brittany would have to go right back to base one and plan something else out. And keep a closer eye on Amanda because any suspicion directed at her might be worse after this just because Brittany's words were taken the wrong way.

Then Bennet and Susan came in.

"You." Susan was the first to notice Brittany, taking the scene in with one sweep of her eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Visiting." Brittany put on a straight face to hide the jumble of anger and fear tripping and tumbling all over each other. She still didn't know how to deal with Susan and Bennet, who were the most sure and vocal about their disgust. But if Brittany could just show the other Cheerios what really _is_ unfair, then putting herself in this situation would have been worth it.

"Are you deaf or freakishly forgetful?" Bennet dropped her bag on the floor and walked over to Brittany. The crowd of Cheerios surrounding Brittany parted to create a path and stay out of the way. "Or is this just part of your stupidity? Or part of your lesbian freakiness?"

"I think I'm more of a bicorn-I mean bisexual." Brittany started off correcting Bennet, then correcting herself. Although maybe she was more of a pansexual. That one was the one that didn't think much about labels, despite being a label itself, wasn't it? Brittany didn't get the chance to dwell on it because Bennet coming closer strengthened the temporarily subdued anger and fear. Bennet and Susan's behavior made Brittany _angry_, probably more angry with them than she was with Finn. But she also felt a little afraid of them, afraid of the power they had with words. Unlike Brittany, they didn't have to think so carefully how to word things in terms that everyone else would understand. They just needed to state a few opinions with force and passion, and it easily reached those that feared what they didn't understand. And few people understood the kind of love Brittany and Santana had.

They were face to face now, and it was extremely uncomfortable. The distance was small enough that Brittany could smell the chemicals Bennet put into her hair to make it so unnaturally pale. "Get out of my locker room."

Glancing over Bennet's shoulder, Brittany noted how everyone was just watching. Staring. She wasn't sure what they were thinking, though it was probably safe to guess that the previous talk was still fresh in their minds. Hopefully, they were asking themselves questions about if unicorns really deserve to be bullied by horses and zebras.

It would be nice if after all of this, the Cheerios would change. They would be less brutal towards the weird kids in school. They would be less self-absorbed and put more value on friendships. They would be nicer. And Brittany would feel like she was the right piece in the right place again.

Ideally.

If Quinn and Santana could change from the mean, glee-bashing bullies they were two or three years ago to the passionate performers they are now, then Brittany saw no reason why she couldn't hope for similar development from the rest of the Cheerios.

Anything was possible.

Brittany met Bennet's eyes and said, "Are you going to make me?" For now, the anger took the front seat and the fear, though still there, stayed at the back. Someone had to stand up to these people. Santana had gotten into enough conflicts already. It was time for Brittany to start taking action.

Bennet moved closer. Out of discomfort, Brittany couldn't help but take a step back, only to find her back against a locker again. The fear graduated to the passenger seat. "What do we have to do to get the message through your thick, empty skull?"

"Sorry, but I'm too stupid to understand what you're saying." Brittany said, making the effort to sound clueless and innocent instead of irritated and uneasy. She wasn't sure if it was the best plan, though. But she kind of wanted to get on Bennet's nerves while anger was still more in control. "Can you explain it again, please?"

This was really irritating Bennet. Brittany resisted the urge to grin when she realized it. "You're a freak and so is Lopez. We don't want you lesbian creeps being in here and ogling us like the pervs you are."

The quick joy Brittany felt at the small success of irritating Bennet was dashed when the Cheerio further decreased the distance between them. It forced Brittany to press herself against the lockers and stretch her neck out and away because this was really creeping her out. The fear took the wheel, the anger rode shotgun. Santana might be fearless enough to get all up in the faces of her enemies, but Brittany was the opposite. Being in direct conflict with anyone always terrified her, even if she _was_ trying to face her fears and do this for Santana. Adding to that, she was trapped with barely anywhere to look but at a person who clearly wanted her to feel as awful as possible.

Swallowing, Brittany resisted the unbearably strong urge to blurt out something about Lord Tubbington just to get Bennet to back off. If only Santana were here. Brittany was having a really hard time thinking straight right now. Fear took a firmer grip on the wheel and placed a heavier foot on the pedal.

Bennet seemed to be able to sense how uncomfortable Brittany felt. It was frustrating. "Do you _get_ it now?"

Santana. Back at the choir room when the Troubletones lost members, Santana said something. It was to Bennet, about the whole checking out the Cheerios issue. Brittany swallowed again and tried to remember. "Ogling you?" It played with how vain one were to be to assume that Brittany and Santana would like looking at them. Brittany hoped her immense discomfort wasn't completely obvious as she tried to imitate Santana's confident, badass tone, "Sorry, Bennet, but you're not our type. There are like a million better more magical things we could do instead of wasting time and eye energy looking at you. Rainbow Dash is way hotter."

Brittany thought she heard a few people snicker. Spurned on by this, the anger wrestled with the fear for the control.

"Fuck you." Bennet hissed.

"No, thanks."

Even if she was cornered and just a millimeter away from panicking, Brittany was able to feel a little pleased by how furious Bennet looked, even if it scared her at the same time. Maybe the Cheerios could see who was actually more of a _freak_ here. Maybe they'd figure out just how unreasonable it was to be so horrible towards Santana, stripping her of all the achievements she worked so hard to get.

"I really _really_ hate you. Just get out already." Bennet whispered, low enough that only Brittany could hear.

Brittany could see that Bennet was getting more and more frustrated and enraged. She would have scanned the Cheerios watching them to see what Susan's reactions were if it weren't for the feeling that she had to stay focused on Bennet in this weird eye contact match. "What are you gonna do to make me? Unless you can use the accio spell, you can't slushie me right now." Brittany decided to follow Bennet's lead and lowered the volume of her own voice.

Bennet continued to whisper. "Ever since we got Lopez out, I've been rising up. I am _not_ gonna let you take this away."

The anger was beginning to really grow stronger than the anxiety now. Brittany was hating Bethany Bennet more and more with every passing second of this interaction with her. "Like what you're doing to Santana? She worked hard to get her place. Yours is more like an overnight wish from a genie and that can go away fast." If Bennet was smart, she would be able to figure out that Brittany would make _sure_ it went away fast. Fear was thrown back. It was all about her anger and hate now.

Whoever assumed that Brittany was only about sweetness and forgiveness was dead wrong. She was human enough to still get mad. It scared her and made her feel strange and guilty, but it was also something she kind of liked because it was getting things done. It was a driving force that took action to make things better instead of waiting for things to be better. Brittany felt somewhat proud of herself. Maybe the Cheerios would finally understand that their judgments of people weren't always accurate.

"Don't _push_ me." Bennet warned. "Just shut up and leave."

"What, are you going to hit me or something?" Brittany didn't know what she would do if Bennet _did_ hit her. As furious as she was right now, Brittany still wasn't a fan of violence and she still didn't like the idea of inflicting pain on another living being (except for plants maybe).

Bennet was the first to break eye contact, stepping away from Brittany and looking around at their audience. Brittany released a sigh of relief, glad to be able to breathe more easily now that her bubble of personal space wasn't being invaded so much by someone she hated.

"I'm not the only one freaked out by her being here, right?" Bennet raised her voice and addressed the crowd this time.

"We _all_ are." Susan instantly seconded what Bennet said. "It's gross."

Brittany watched the girl shoot meaningful glares at those that were part of this morning's slushie incident. A few of them voiced their agreement and they sounded convincing. Some sounded forced. Others just remained silent and avoided eye contact.

Doubtful that she was the only one who noticed that, Brittany spoke up. "You think they're _all_ really on your side?" She still preferred not to think of things as being on one side or the other, but she knew this was the only way Bennet would understand it, closed as she was to the possibilities of grey between black and white. "Because _I'm_ not convinced that they are. Flying cows are easier to believe in."

"_Shut up already_!" At the same time that she shrieked this, Bennet swung her hand towards Brittany in a forceful slap that knocked her sideways.

Brittany automatically put a hand to her cheek and stumbled slightly before regaining her balance. For a moment that felt like an eternity, Brittany just stared at Bennet and breathed in gasps.

That _actually_ happened.

It _really_, _actually_ happened.

If she wasn't feeling the tingling pain spreading over her cheek, Brittany wouldn't have been able to believe it.

Eyes full of hate and disgust and rage were all Brittany could see on Bennet's face. There was no regret there. There was no hesitation. She was ready to do it again if she had to, if Brittany pushed her even further to.

When she finally regained a little control of herself, Brittany straightened up and began walking away, nearly bumping into Becky on her way out of the locker room. It wasn't long before she wasn't just walking anymore, but running at full speed.

* * *

><p>The experience with Finn, as well as what happened with the Cheerios, was still fresh in Santana's mind as she walked out of her last class. It was touching and actually really sweet of Brittany to be so fierce about defending Santana. There was nothing like this feeling of having someone who, despite having a deep-rooted fear of conflict and violence, was willing to do whatever it took to protect her. It gave Santana a sense of safety and importance she didn't often feel. Safety not in the sense that she was immune to being harassed and humiliated by the irritating students in this school, but in the sense that there was someone who was actively making the effort to try ensuring it for Santana.<p>

But on the other hand, it was kind of sad. Santana didn't like having to see Brittany forced to deal with these situations. She didn't like how it was affecting Brittany, twisting and tampering with that generally forgiving and friendly personality. It reminded her of last year, when Santana's own difficult behavior pushed Brittany to breaking point, resulting in that argument about the damn shirt Santana was too scared of wearing to the performance.

If only they could go back to the summer. Where all they did was hang out, enjoy each other's company and love every moment together. It was all about living each day happily. Just… enjoying that day. Enjoying the day and each other with no labels, no pressure, nothing. They weren't slutty cheerleaders or weirdo glee freaks or annoying students or a couple of kids with questionable sexualities. Just two girls, insanely in love with each other, hanging out.

Reminding herself that summer was long over and the nightmare started last week, Santana put away the nostalgia. She focused on what she set out to do while Britt talked to someone Santana assumed was a partner for a school project or something.

Kurt's locker was several turns away from her class, so by the time Santana reached it, he had his eyes on his phone and looked about ready to leave. "Hey, Ladyface." She called his attention. "Can I talk to you for a second?" When she said the second part, Santana made sure to employ a softer, more sincere tone. Hopefully, Kurt would see that she wasn't looking for a fight. But at the first moment that he show signs of any aggression, Santana wouldn't be able to keep herself from lashing out.

"I prefer Porcelain." Kurt said, pocketing his phone. Before Santana could start panicking and worrying, he smiled at her. "Sure. I'm meeting Blaine outside in while, but I'm sure he won't mind waiting." That was fine, Santana wasn't planning on having a long conversation anyway. When he tilted his head slightly to make eye contact with her, Santana immediately looked sideways. "What's on your mind?"

"I just…" Santana swallowed and ignored the urge to abruptly end the conversation. "I just wanted to… y'know… thank you… for…" Was that really her own voice she was hearing? It sounded so uncomfortable and unsure. "For earlier." How eloquently specific.

To make up for how she sounded so subdued, Santana almost said something about being able to handle it herself and not needing Kurt's piercingly high voice attempting to help her. She bit it back, though, and remembered that she had way too many enemies right now. It would be better if she actively tried not to screw things up with Kurt.

And she _was_ trying. It just was that talking to people she wasn't very close to without having weapons at the ready was ridiculously hard for Santana.

"No problem." In contrast, Kurt seemed extremely at ease. It almost made Santana wish she was being irritable towards him just so she wouldn't be the only one uncomfortable. _Almost_. "And if you and Britt ever need anyone to talk to, Blaine and I are always just a call or an IM away." The friendly smile turned into a smirk. "Or if you ever want a double date."

Well that helped her relax a little. Santana was able to laugh a little before saying, "Take it easy there, Tinker Bell. I'm not ready to take Britts to prancing and pixie dust sprinkling sessions with you and your hobbit just yet."

After the words left her mouth, Santana actually found herself worrying that it might offend him. Since when did she care so much what Kurt Hummel thought about her? But honestly though... the thought of going on a double date really _was_ intimidating. It felt like too big of a step forward. Besides, putting on an effort to be nicer to Kurt was also already a huge step for Santana. She was trying, but looking for the balance between playful banter and hurtful insult was easier said than done.

"I understand." Staying civil, and indirectly making Santana feel immature, Kurt said, "I mean aside from the Bully Whips interactions from last year, we've never really been less than a meter away from each other, let alone spoken to each other."

Bully Whips. Santana remembered how that plan started out as a success before prom night revealed just how bad McKinley could _really_ be. The memory of that disaster of a night caused a shiver to run up her spine. The unexpected results threw back in Santana's face all of her efforts to reform the school. And just when she had started to think that it was working. Just when she was starting to think that maybe it could get better.

"Santana?" Pulled back to the present, Santana looked up at Kurt to see him regarding her with concern. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if she liked that look. It was too similar to pity for Santana's liking. Pity meant she was vulnerable and pathetic, neither of which Santana wanted to be seen as.

Kurt hesitated. He seemed to sense her tension, because when he continued, Santana got the feeling that he was being careful about how he talked to her. "Look… I know we've never really… established any kind of connection before. But I would like to." As if to keep it from blowing up into a big deal, he shrugged and added, "It doesn't have to be about both of us being one of the few gay kids here. And it doesn't have to be about bonding because we're both in glee clubs. It doesn't have to be about anything you don't want it to be about."

Santana took the time to mull over his proposition. She couldn't help but search through it, to see if there might be some malicious ulterior motive. She couldn't help waiting for some punchline to this joke. She couldn't help but twist and turn this to see it from every possible angle because it was just too hard to believe. Why would he care, anyway? Wasn't she the heartless one that viciously tossed balls at Rory after the dodgeball game was over? Wasn't Kurt the one that yelled at her for it?

What business did Kurt have offering friendship to McKinley's worst bitch?

Daring to look directly at his eyes, she tried to see if there was any sign deception there. Any little clue that would give away some secret plan to completely destroy every shred of Santana's sanity.

"But if you'd rather we remain indifferent towards each other besides the occasional moment of stepping into one another's defense, I'll respect that." Kurt interpreted her silence as a rejection and took it with so much grace, Santana had to wait for the shock to diminish before she could respond.

"Hey… Kurt." Using his real name for once felt strange on her tongue, like tasting a foreign meal she didn't exactly like. "Porcelain." He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. "I… I guess I'd like that."

He smiled.

Being like this was uncomfortable because it was so _unfamiliar_. It was still difficult for Santana to believe that someone outside of the Pierce household (and Mercedes and Sugar) was willing to be friendly towards her without any obvious need to be. Especially someone from New Directions after that disaster of a Mash-Off. Still... maybe she could learn to like this. Even if she still resented New Directions, maybe it was time she got around to allowing a little trust to develop for a few of them. Maybe they didn't hate her as much as she thought they did.

"But I'm not going to hug you or anything right now, okay?" To reinforce her point, Santana lifted her palms defensively. "You might get your pixie dust all over me."

"Sounds good to me. I'm not yet willing to risk bursting into flames upon coming into physical contact with you." Well at least Kurt was being good-natured about it. Which she was still really struggling to understand.

Were they done talking now? Santana was partially looking forward to the end of the conversation so Kurt could go singing and dancing on the street with Blaine and Santana could go look for Brittany and Rory.

But for some reason, she didn't want to leave yet.

Bringing back memories of the Bully Whips also came with memories of seeing Kurt being bullied and pushed around last year. It was still going on this year, but not to the severity it had before since Karofsky transferred and since at least three members of the football team were seniors who made sure the other jocks knew better than to harass glee members. The worst of it came from the hockey team now.

Unlike Santana, who had Brittany, Kurt faced most of that horrible treatment alone. And unlike Santana, who only just started facing this, Kurt dealt with it for all his high school life. Maybe for even longer, since his sexuality was so obvious, it could set off anyone's radar from a hundred miles away.

She remembered how it escalated into something so bad, even Rachel Berry noticed it taking its toll on Kurt when he was no longer sleeping, eating or singing regularly.

"How'd you do it?"

Raising both eyebrows so high it caused a wrinkle to appear on his normally glass-like forehead, Kurt cocked his head to one side. "Excuse me?"

For a moment or two, Santana considered changing the topic and saying something vague. But then there was that part of her that didn't want to leave yet. That wanted to hear someone who'd been through this shit say something encouraging. "Getting… getting though last year." Santana herself was taken aback by how soft her own voice sounded. _Again_.

"The bullying?" Kurt asked for confirmation that Santana gave with a nod. "Well you remember I ended up transferring to Dalton for a while." She did. And she knew that wasn't an option for her. There was nowhere else Santana could go, the campaign ad that broadcasted it for all to see made sure of that. "But when I was still in McKinley… and Ka… _the jocks" _It was obvious to anyone who had at least one ear thatKurt came close to saying Karofsky's name. "…were at their worst…"

There was no smile on Kurt's face now, and he was paler than Santana had ever thought possible. In his wide eyes, she saw a sea of fear and pain. Maybe bringing this up was a bad idea. Maybe she shouldn't have poked at old scars. It looked like Kurt was reliving every yell, every shove and every threat. Santana was starting to think about reaching out to touch his shoulder and pull him out of his daze.

Before she actually got to do anything though, Kurt was able to get himself out of it.

Blinking, he shook his head slightly, "Blaine helped a lot." When he returned his gaze to Santana, she could see that he was back in the present, no longer floundering in the memories. "And you guys. I was supported by friends who cared about me, who protected me."

"You mean _them_." Santana corrected. "_They_ were there for you."

Surprising Santana, Kurt scoffed, "Oh don't downplay the daring rescue during the Night of Neglect concert." He made this motion with his arms, similar to the way Brittany moves when she imitates planes to enhance parts of a conversation. "You swooped in like a Latina Lynda Carter and prevented a brawl from taking place. I'm still grateful to you for that. As well as the stunt you pulled with Rick Nelson and his slushie. And of course the Bully Whips."

"Yeah… that."

"Santana, may I ask you a question?" The serious tone Kurt used scared Santana.

The temptation to shake her head and say that he couldn't almost swayed Santana into giving in to it, but she resisted and instead nodded slowly. "Uhhuh?" Immediately, her mind started preparing the defenses. If this got bad, the doors were ready to be shut tight at a moment's notice and the barbed words were within reach.

"Last year, before I transferred back, I talked to Dave." _Dave_. Were they close? Santana didn't know if they ever bonded over Bully Whip escorts or if they interacted at all after Prom. She wondered if Kurt's gaydar was as good as hers. "He said that the only reason you wanted to bring me back with the Bully Whips was so you could raise your chances of becoming Prom Queen." Wow, Karofsky gave her plans away from the very start. Santana knew she maybe should be hurt about it, perhaps angry, but instead she just felt indifferent.

Santana wondered if it was possible for a person to have a maximum capacity for emotions and if she was at her limit, given everything that was happening, feeling so many things at a time. Confusion at Kurt's gentleness. Gratitude towards people who stood up for her and helped her. Fear of finding out that there was going to be a surprise twist that revealed they really weren't looking out for her. Anger at Finn and the Cheerios. Guilt about being such a bitch. Shame about behaving horribly. Pain at now being at the receiving end of horrible treatment. Terror at the thought of ever seeing... _them_ again in the waking world. Worry about the Troubletones. Embarrassment at talking so softly and uncertainly towards Kurt. Discomfort at being so open with Kurt, but kind of liking talking to him.

And love for Brittany of course. Always.

All of these emotions tangled up in each other... it was a little draining. Maybe she just really did have no more room to be mad at Karofsky for something that happened ages ago.

She really needed a drink. Or a cigarette. The last time she got crazy with either felt like lifetimes ago. But staying at the Pierce's made her think twice about trying anything of the sort. Besides, Brittany disapproved of the smoking.

Still though...

"Was that really your only reason?" Kurt asked, interrupting her reverie without knowing it.

"No." Was the only answer Santana could give. It was the short, easy answer. She could have explained how she had been in such a dark pit of despair at the sight of Brittany and Artie that she almost convinced herself that being Prom Queen would let her decree that Brittany be her girlfriend without consequence. She could have discussed the hypothetical, ideal situation where she is popular enough to be Prom Queen and gain the acceptance of the school, so that once she was ready to come out, McKinley would have no choice but to deal with it. She could have told him that she liked to think of him as a '_this could be you'_ example for herself and she wanted to use Kurt to test the waters before she herself considered going public about her feelings for Brittany. She could have said that she genuinely did want to create a safer environment for people like Kurt and Brittany and herself and Blaine. She could have admitted that she _did_ actually kind of care about his safety.

"No?" Kurt repeated, in a subtle attempt to get her to elaborate.

Santana tried to add to that one word, but struggled with the how and the where to start. The sincerity and vulnerability required for this conversation was a lot to ask from her. "Look, I can't really go into it, okay? Let's just say that there was more to it than that, and I did kind of give a damn about you. Can we put it at that and leave it at that?"

Thankfully, Kurt was respectful enough to nod and accept her answer. "Alright then."

"Alright." This was too much now. Santana wanted out. She nodded to him and turned to leave, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

"Can I say one last thing?"

"Make it quick, Snow White, coz your dwarf is waiting." Santana didn't exactly mean for it to come out so harshly.

As Kurt took his hand off her shoulder, Santana faced him. "I know you're going through a tough time right now, Santana." Hearing this made her feel something between discomfort at knowing that he was aware of her problems and an odd warmth at realizing that he wasn't turning a blind eye. "But I also know you're strong enough to get through this."

"Uh…"

"Brittany loves you and she's looking out for you." Those words couldn't have been more different from what his step brother said to her last week. "And I don't know how hard you'll find this to believe… but Blaine and I are looking out for you, too. You're not alone, okay?"

"Er… okay." What was she supposed to say? Santana didn't know. Still didn't understand. "But… why? I mean, why the hell would you care?" The strangeness of it all was disconcerting. Santana had to demand answers or risk losing her mind. "I'm a bitch to you and everyone else. Right now I feel like insulting the hell out of you just because I dunno what to say. And you looked ready to go all Hulk on me after we bombed Rory after the dodgeball game."

Dismissing the issue with a feminine wave of his hand, Kurt said, "Water under the bridge. You and Rory seem to be on good terms now, and he's only ever spoken well of you at glee." Kurt took a short pause and tilted his head to the side, as if restructuring his train of thought. "Think of it this way… we might be on opposing show choirs now, but we're all still glee kids, and we all still look out for each other."

"Er…" Santana fumbled for what to say. "Thanks."

"Just have a little courage and a little faith. You _will_ get through this." He sounded so _sure_. Almost as sure as Mrs. Pierce. The lifting conversation with Brittany's mother (who felt more like a mom to Santana than anyone else) came back to the forefront of Santana's consciousness. It pushed thoughts of Finn and Cheerios and jocks to the background.

For once, Santana saw and felt no need to say anything foul or demeaning or even playfully insulting. She just felt… _awe_. And cautious optimism. "Kurt… thanks." She still had her doubts about the rest of New Directions, and she only sort of blamed them, aware as she was of her own mean, selfish and offensive behavior. But at least she could allow herself to hold some trust in Kurt- guarded and still a little suspicious, but trust nevertheless.

When they parted ways and went off to meet their significant others, Santana was in a pretty good mood. It was a decent enough mood that she was able to smile at Rory when she saw him waiting next to Brittany's car, and ask him how his day was without calling him anything other than his assigned Leprechaun nickname. They had a surprisingly civil conversation without needing Brittany to officiate. It wasn't anything deep that required opening up or whatever. Just a casual chat Santana enjoyed having after the heavy talk with Kurt.

The pleasant mood plummeted the moment Brittany arrived.

From the slump of her shoulders to the heaviness of her eyelids to the redness of her face, Santana could easily tell that something upset Brittany. _Really_ upset her. But when asked what was wrong, the question was brushed off with denial and a desire to just go home.

The feeling that something was very wrong persisted throughout the car ride, hanging in the air like some noxious gas that made Santana's throat tighten. She didn't like how Brittany was bothered by something. She didn't like how Brittany was trying to hide it. And she most certainly didn't like having no idea who did this and who she should tackle to the ground.

When they got home, and Santana asked again, and Brittany responded with one of her defensive quips about Lord Tubbington then completely avoided the subject. Dinner came and went, with the feeling still there. Working on homework together, it was still there, though it was less visibly noticeable since Brittany smiled whenever Santana would comment about how wanky a line would be in the passage they were reading for English.

One last time, Santana tried to find out what was wrong, and just got another none-answer about Lord Tubbington. So she decided that if Brittany didn't feel like talking about it, Santana might as well help distract her from it, with a movie watched on Brittany's laptop, with jokes and with kisses.

Just before she fell asleep with their arms around each other, Santana's last moments of consciousness were of Brittany's unusual behavior.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.:<strong> About the Faberry in this fic, I don't think it'll reach a point where it's clear as day and they're in love. But I might touch on their friendship more often from here on. And I honestly don't know yet what I'm going to do with Finchel... so... We'll see.

And I apologize for any typos I might've missed.

Oh, and I delve further into Brittany's feelings about the night in the Lopez kitchen in the next chapter. Just saying. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Updating this took... long.

At first it was because of school keeping me busy, but in the past two or three weeks, it's just been lack of motivation. I'm trying to get back into this writing this and it's not exactly easy when the real glee is just being ridiculously disappointing. Plus I keep adding more and more to this fic and I'm not sure where I'm going anymore since I never planned on it lasting this long.

I sort of know already where it will end, but we'll see how long it takes to get there.

**Edit: OMG I AM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO PUT THE LINEBREAKS.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

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><p>The slap was hard. And it was painful.<p>

Brittany couldn't stop thinking about it and how it felt, and how Bennet looked when it happened. It wasn't that the concept of slapping people was foreign to her. There were countless times she and her glee friends playfully swiped at each others' shoulders when the corniest jokes are cracked or the silliest things are done. There were like a million times she walked along McKinley's halls and happened to pass by a couple arguing and ending with a slap to the boyfriend's face. It happened in real life, it happened in movies.

But _this_ slap was one that was _actually directed at her_, and it was out of anger and a real intention to inflict pain. It was scary. _Terrifying_. Distressing. Drilling itself into her head and making sure she couldn't just forget it. Playing and replaying until it seemed she could still feel it even if her cheek didn't physically hurt anymore.

There was just so much _rage_ in it.

It came so suddenly.

Swiftly.

A blur of motion, then an explosion of pain.

'_Shut up already!_'

Bennet's voice echoed in Brittany's head. All the pent up fury the Cheerio had was the force that drove that hand forward.

How could people really be so overcome by anger that they saw no other way to release it than through physical violence? Brittany remembered how she came so close to punching Finn. _So. Close_. But she _didn't_. That counted for something, right?

She remembered Santana's temper and how often it led to real brawls. Brittany always justified it with Santana's intentions. It was usually out of a need to fight for a cause Santana believed in, be it in the name of defending Brittany; putting arrogance down a peg or two; defending her status; to right something she believes is wrong… to name a few.

Santana.

If Brittany felt so bothered by a little slap from a girl smaller than herself, how must _Santana_ feel? What happened to Santana was _so_ much worse. An actual punch to the face by a man who easily towered over her… the mere thought of it was horrifying.

Brittany didn't notice her bedroom slowly morphing into the Lopez kitchen she'd visited countless times before until the blue wallpaper and the bed and Santana were completely gone.

Normally, this environment was tied to happy memories of sharing chocolate from the fridge with Santana, or swiping flour at each other while attempting to bake and follow a recipe that Brittany found confusing. Now, that light, warm aura was gone. What replaced it was a heavy atmosphere that made the wallpaper and the lights seem darker than Brittany remembered.

She shivered and called Santana's name, wishing she could curl up in her girlfriend's arms and feel some warmth and safety because each second in this kitchen felt like _danger_.

Footsteps- slow, steady and heavy managed to irrationally increase Brittany's fear. Before she could wonder why, the answer showed itself in the form of Mr. Lopez walking into view. Brittany didn't see him often since he was usually at work when she came to visit Santana, but immediately, she could tell that he was different today. (is it daytime now?)

There was no love or gentleness in his eyes, no joy or laughter. Just dark, cold hatred that caused her body to start trembling. It was like looking at a ferocious bear getting ready to rip something apart. The tension in every muscle was obvious, despite the long-sleeved button down shirt he wore. This wasn't the Mr. Lopez that flashed a polite smile whenever she visited. This wasn't the restrained Mr. Lopez that gave Santana a frustrated-disappointed look after they received their report cards and Brittany came over to ask for help in History. This wasn't even the cranky Mr. Lopez that Brittany overheard yelling when she was supposed to pay them a surprise visit she ended up changing her mind about.

This was a stranger and Brittany wanted to be as far away from him as she could possibly be because she did not feel safe being so near his broad shoulders and large hands and dark eyes.

When she took a step back, Brittany had to place a hand on the counter to steady herself because her knees were shaking so badly. That was when she noticed that the cold and shaky hand she used didn't look anything like her own. It was a different color, a different shape and a smaller size. Looking down at her body, Brittany noticed that the clothes she was wearing weren't hers, and her skin was several shades darker.

"Santana." Mr. Lopez growled the name so viciously, it literally hurt to hear it. Something inside Brittany twisted in pain and tightened her throat. The trembling grew more violent, and the effort to stay standing on quaking knees was almost unbearable.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't move.

The fist came rushing towards her face.

Brittany was jolted out of her nightmare by Santana waking up from one of her own.

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><p>For the first time in a long time, she actually fell asleep quickly and stayed that way all through the night. It was refreshing despite the fact that she still felt broken by Shelby's rejection and fearful about the future. Quinn didn't really think that Rachel could do anything to let her see Beth again, but she did think that maybe making a harder effort to look into colleges was a good idea.<p>

If she got into none of them and wound up stuck here, at least she could say she tried. At least she could also blame forces outside of herself if it ever came to the dark grey future Quinn pictured instead of the brightly lit one Rachel painted.

It got her thinking about her interests, and analyzing which ones were actually passions and which ones could be converted into careers. Quinn wasn't sure yet, since everything was still tainted by the fear and doubt, but it was a start, wasn't it?

Shuddering slightly, Quinn hoped that this feeling would last. She knew she was an unfit mother and she hated having to accept it. She knew she was a horrible human being for the things she'd done. There was still an empty chasm inside of her that she didn't know how to fill, and there were still wounds that bled out her fears and insecurities.

But somehow, she managed to feel positive enough to start considering options other than rotting in Lima after graduation. The stack of brochures littering her desk were a start. Hopefully, Quinn's story _wouldn't_ be ending with dusty brochures and dead-end Lima.

Quinn prayed that this positive feeling didn't abandon her any time soon because she had no idea how she would keep herself from being completely overwhelmed by the negatives all over again. She was just at the edge of a cliff, and she feared that just a little nudge could send her falling far and bringing a lifetime's worth of cigarettes and alcohol with her.

"Anyone sitting there?"

Looking up from the brochures, Quinn saw Mercedes, with tired eyes and a bag held in one arm. "You can have it." Quinn nodded in response and flashed what she thought was a welcoming smile. She was grateful that Mercedes was still interested in reawakening the bond they once shared.

"So… how you doing?" Mercedes asked. "Last we talked, you seemed bugged enough to wanna end the call in a hurry." That was an incredibly tactful way of putting it. Mercedes could have just easily said, '_Girl, why the hell did you hang up on me?_'.

"I was…" Quinn gathered up the brochures and put them away, as well as the paper where she started writing down some options for her post-high school fate. "I was kinda busy at the time."

"Busy being out late at night?" Making her doubt apparent, Mercedes raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly to the side.

Quinn bit her lip, torn between mild irritation and guilt and maybe a little fear. The dark thoughts that were all over her when that call happened threatened to come creeping back and that was absolutely the last thing Quinn wanted right now. She was afraid of going back there. She felt bad about being snappy with Mercedes and leaving her hanging. But she also felt slightly annoyed by how close Mercedes was to acting pushy and nosy about the incident. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal, was it?

"Yeah, sort of." Quinn answered evasively, looking anywhere but at Mercedes.

"Alright, fine. It probably ain't my business." Quinn just barely held back a sigh of relief as Mercedes dropped the subject and took the seat. "So…" Mercedes looked down at her desk and toyed with her fingers for a while before returning her gaze to Quinn. "Sectionals is coming up pretty soon. Your club ready for it?"

Was Mercedes asking that question as a show choir rival or as a friend? Taking a moment to ponder this, Quinn didn't answer right away. She briefly debated with herself about whether or not to answer honestly, and how honestly. She also had to factor in the fact that she missed out on the recent rehearsal and she hadn't been as involved with her club as she probably should have been.

"Not… exactly." Quinn decided to answer as sincerely as she could with what little information she had. After pushing so many friends away for so long, it was about time she tried to be more open. "I think Santana's… situation pushed us a little off-schedule. You know how Mr. Schue is." Quinn rolled her eyes before saying, "But this afternoon's meeting might get us back on track. Or at least… it _should_."

"We're not doing so hot either." Mercedes said with a sigh. "There's a lot of drama going down on our end, and now we're really short on members."

"Ohh.." Quinn paused, "Well… I know you guys will find members soon." She attempted to reassure Mercedes, but at the doubtful expression on her face, Quinn felt like she was failing to do so. Maybe changing the topic would be a better idea. "How's Santana been, by the way? Her and Britt?" She asked, feeling genuinely curious. "I haven't been able to talk to them much this week."

Mercedes glanced at the front of the classroom, found that the teacher had yet to arrive, and said, "She's kinda been eating even less than usual. Which is sayin' something, considering the fact that it's _Santana_ we're talking about." That information was consistent with the observation Rachel made yesterday. "And I think a lot of stuff's happening between them and the Cheerios, but they're just not telling me."

"The Cheerios?" Quinn repeated, raising an eyebrow. "But aren't they supposed to be mindlessly obeying and following Santana without question?"

Shaking her head, Mercedes said, "The opposite's what's been going down lately. Even Britt isn't wearing her uniform anymore." The expression on Mercedes's face was melancholic, showing that she actually did feel bad about Santana's situation. It came as something of a surprise to Quinn. She never really consciously thought about how much closer Mercedes and Santana and Brittany might have gotten over Troubletones.

Now that she _was_ thinking about it, Quinn couldn't help but feel a little jealous. But it wasn't like she had been putting a lot of effort to be there for Santana and Brittany. Hell, she'd been doing the exact opposite recently.

So it wasn't a surprise if Mercedes was being a better friend to them now.

Maybe after graduation, Mercedes would still be a better, more supportive friend. The three of them might try to get a small place together in New York or L.A. or wherever. It could happen. It was already proven that the three of them did amazingly when they put their talents together, why not take it further and use it beyond the walls of high school competitions?

Before Quinn could continue on the downward spiral of her anxieties, Mercedes's voice provided the necessary distraction. It pulled her away from the worries of the future and back to the present.

"And the fact that she was…" A shudder wracked Mercedes's large frame, while her face twisted into a look of intense distress. "y'know… hit…"

Again, that was proof of how negligent Quinn had been. She actually saw what Santana looked like before Mercedes did, saw just how bad the eye and the knee were, saw how Santana limped and winced with the pain of such fresh wounds. Mercedes probably only saw little glimpses that slipped through the cracks in the walls Santana built to hide weakness.

But who was the one making a huge fuss and acting really affected?

"Santana won't talk about it at all, and I don't really wanna bug her about it if she's not comfortable." Mercedes continued talking, even if Quinn was barely giving any responses other than slight nods. "I was on the phone with Tina yesterday, and she told me that Rory said it was Santana's dad that did it. I mean can you imagine that?"

"Kinda." Quinn found herself feeling thankful that when her own father kicked her out, he never laid a hand on her. If the verbal blows hurt, how much worse would a physical one have been?

"And they just threw her out? What were—How could they—I just—_damn_." Seeming to realize just how much she was getting herself all worked up, Mercedes paused. She took several breaths to regain composure before resuming with a much softer tone. "I love my parents, and they love me. I dunno what kinda mess I'd be in if they ever did that to me."

Uncomfortable thinking about it because it was bringing her back to the night Finn announced her pregnancy to her parents, Quinn just raised her eyebrows at Mercedes and nodded slightly. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself and trying to find comfort in it. Trying not to remember how it felt to see her parents' faces slowly transition from surprise to amusement to disbelief and then to her father's anger. Trying not to remember how her cries seemed to fall on deaf ears. Trying not to recall how parents that were supposed to love unconditionally instead claimed to no longer recognize their own daughter.

Quinn shuddered and tried to move the flow of her thoughts away from that memory.

Unfortunately, the detour wasn't any better.

Thoughts of that night were tied to her pregnancy, and of course that was tied to Beth. And right now, most thoughts of Beth were connected to extremely negative feelings. They reminded Quinn of her stupid baby-snatching plot, of her unreasonable behavior, of the unresolved feelings of attachment she still had for the baby she carried for nine months and tried to forget for another twelve or so.

Was it selfish of her to be thinking more about herself and Beth than Santana and Brittany?

Mercedes's sharp intake of breath and soft "_Oh my god_." interrupted Quinn's train of thought. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."

"What?"

"You… Your parents… before… I didn't mean…" It was a little odd to see Mercedes get so flustered when Quinn was so used to seeing the girl speaking confidently and always ready with a string of stereotypical expressions. "I'm sorry." The apology sounded fairly sincere, and the way Mercedes was looking at her gave Quinn the idea that maybe she was being more transparent than she ever thought she was.

Shifting uncomfortably, still not really used to having people be in tune with what was running through her head, Quinn just changed the subject, "Yeah, let's just talk about something else first, okay? If you want to talk about doing something nice for Santana since New Directions isn't going to bother… then I don't know, let's discuss it over lunch or whatever."

* * *

><p>Santana barely talked about the things that bothered her unless she was nearing or already <em>enduring<em> breaking point. So she probably should be more patient and understanding in this situation where Brittany just wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday.

But she couldn't stop herself from wishing she knew what was going on and imagining all the things she could do to whoever caused Brittany to look so upset at the end of the day.

If it was one of the jocks or the Cheerios again… Santana clenched her fists and gritted her teeth at the thought. All the encounters with them were actually making Santana begin to _fear_ them. Which was _not_ the way things were supposed to be.

A pale, soft hand gently placed itself over her tensed one. Images of smirking jocks and sneering cheerleaders faded away to be replaced by the classroom and Mrs. Hagberg. Santana looked to her left and saw Brittany's blue eyes watching with concern. _You okay?_ Brittany mouthed.

Nodding, Santana whispered, "I'll be fine."

"But that means you're not fine now." Brittany whispered back.

Of course Brittany would be quick enough to notice Santana's word choice. Not exactly surprising. But what was she supposed to say? That she was frustrated by Brittany's silence? That she felt angry and helpless about the Cheerios situation? That she was still uneasy and uncomfortable near any jocks even if Rick the Stick was suspended? That she was still bothered by the looks people would give them even if she never showed it?

For one thing, Brittany pretty much already knew all of these, and there wasn't really anything to gain from bringing it up.

Santana reminded herself that looking for solutions instead of dwelling on problems was a more productive way of dealing with shit.

But that didn't stop her from feeling the hate that she felt whenever she thought of the Cheerios, particularly Bennet and Susan and even damn _Amanda_.

In the time Santana took to think hard about how to respond to Brittany and how useless it would be to bring up all the negative thoughts, a note had been written and then placed on her desk.

_Will you, Santana, the most Unicorn of them all, go out with me, Brittany Bicorn, the sexiest dancer in every universe, on Friday? Breadstix on me ;)_

Then after the elegantly written script was a noticeably messier addition in crayon that read, 'Or your favorite mocha order from the Lima Bean instead if that's what you'd prefer.' This was accompanied by a doodle of a duck and a cat.

Adorable and dorky, the note successfully distracted Santana enough to soften her features into a smile. She nodded to Brittany, whispering, "Of course."

This was how things worked. If Brittany could understand that Santana didn't feel like talking, and could find alternative ways to reach out and show concern, then Santana should be able to do the same. Going on a manhunt or pestering Brittany about what happened weren't the only ways for Santana to show that she cared.

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><p>Lunch was spent shoulder to shoulder with Brittany, doodling unicorns, ducks and cats while Sugar ranted about how inconvenient it was to bring books around instead of assigning everyone e-readers or whatever. Mercedes said she wouldn't join them today, had to attend to something, so it was just the three of them.<p>

Several weeks ago, maybe even just a week ago, Santana would have hated the idea of them being alone with Sugar. But these days, she was actually starting to grow fond of the girl. Part of it was because of how supportive she'd been lately, and also partly because she was one of the very _very_ few people in this school that didn't talk to Brittany like they were talking to a brain-damaged toddler.

So lunch was actually a pleasant affair, a little time spent enjoying the company of Brittany and Sugar, and not thinking of Cheerios or jocks or parents or New Directions. Whatever got to Brittany yesterday didn't seem to be affecting her anymore now, which was a relief. Plus, come to think of it, Santana hadn't run into any jocks or Cheerios today, which was another relief.

The good mood plummeted when it was glee time, though.

She took one look at the people in the room before grabbing hold of Brittany and Mercedes's hands. "Britt. Wheezy. Outside. Now." Santana barely gave them time to respond, pulling them out of their choir room.

"San, what's wrong?" Brittany asked, raising her eyebrows and showing an expression that was a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Why is _she_ still here?" Santana hissed, jerking her head in the direction of the room, where Amanda was sitting several chairs away from the Mack. "She's one of _them_." They were short on members, that was true. But the last thing Santana wanted right now were people she couldn't trust being so fucking _near_. "I say we kick her little ass right out of our room like right now."

"She's one of us." Brittany said simply, as if she expected Santana to agree. She reached out a hand towards Santana's shoulder, as if to calm her.

Surprised to hear this, Santana shrugged off Brittany's hand and stared. Why was she on _that girl's_ side? Brittany was supposed to agree with her, why wasn't she? Santana felt her anger boiling. "She is _not_."

"Wait, what the hell are you two going on about?" Mercedes asked before Brittany could respond. She glanced from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.

"The _Cheerios_ happened!" Santana snapped at Mercedes, barely able to contain her rising anger. This was a serious, grave situation. They had someone they couldn't trust among them, in that room and why weren't they kicking her out without a second thought? Isn't that how glee clubs treat people they don't trust? That's what New Directions did when Santana arranged for the damn piano to be burned. Why wouldn't the Troubletones do the same to treacherous Amanda?

"And slushies." Brittany added quietly.

At their vague answers, Mercedes merely raised an eyebrow, still unable to understand. "Neither of you are making any sense, y'all know that, right?"

Brittany glanced at Santana before focusing on Mercedes and explaining. "The cheerios gave us a mega slushie bomb yesterday and Bennet and Susan were the leaders behind it."

"And lovely little Amanda over there was one of them." Santana added, her voice still slightly raised. Trying to control herself, she tried to speak civilly to Brittany, and just barely managed with a tight voice. "Why are you defending her?"

"San, I know you're really really mad at her and the other Cheerios but… please try to calm down a little and understand… and… and hear me out." Brittany spoke softly, able to stay calm despite the tension of the situation. "Pretty please with a kitty eating a cherry on top?"

After glaring at Brittany and Mercedes and the choir room door, Santana forced her tensed muscles and clenched fists to relax. Maybe Brittany knew something. Maybe there was some plan to all of this. Maybe Brittany, as usual, could see a different side to it that Santana was blind to. "Fine." She sighed. "Why do you think she's one of us and not them?"

"Remember in our sophomore year, the football guys had such a hard time being in glee club because their teammates would be so mean to them about it? Like I think Finn had to slushie Kurt one time?"

"And we hated them whenever they'd do stuff like that." Santana said, coming close to expressing her hate and disapproval all over again.

"Please, San." Brittany tried touching Santana again, reaching for her hand. This time, Santana allowed it. "Think of it as like all those times Coach Sylvester made us do stuff we didn't want to."

"But Brittany, I don't think we should risk keeping a member who might just leave at the last minute." After being silent the whole time that they were talking, Mercedes finally spoke up. "What if she ditches us the day before Sectionals? Or _during_ Sectionals?"

"She won't!" Brittany almost sounded frantic, actually losing her cool, which made Santana raise an eyebrow at her. "She won't, I promise! She's actually mentioned wanting to leave the Cheerios but I need her to stay on it for now."

"Why?" Mercedes asked.

"_Need_ her to stay on it?" Santana repeated. The anger was diminishing. Now she was intrigued. "Britt, what are you up to?"

"You know that saying, keep your favorite snacks close, keep the jackalope who steals it closer? She's like the plate that can report to the food and watch the jackalope for us." When Brittany put it that way, it actually _did_ make sense. Assuming that Amanda really was as loyal as Brittany believed her to be, the kid could be used to keep an eye on the Cheerios. Maybe they could use her to figure out how Coach Sylvester is doing without her star cheerleaders. The idea had merit.

"What the hell is she going on about?" Mercedes turned to Santana, waiting for a translation.

Rolling her eyes because here was just another reminder that Mercedes's understanding of Brittany could only go so far, Santana felt a little frustrated about having to explain. If only people could try a little harder to get the stuff that Brittany says and finally figure out how much of a genius she is. "A lesson on Brittspeak, okay? Replace snack with friend and jackalope with enemies, and you've got a saying that I'm sure you've heard before, unless you've been living under a rock or inside troutymouth's mouth or maybe Blaine's gel shrine."

* * *

><p>Grinning ear to ear, Brittany bounced happily when Santana gave Mercedes an explanation and actually sounded like she agreed with the idea. Brittany squeezed her hand and whispered a "Thank you" when Santana looked at her.<p>

Mercedes paused, letting their words sink in before giving her input. Even if she was the leader of the Troubletones, Mercedes always listened to Santana and Brittany's opinions and made sure to include them in decisions. It was something Brittany appreciated, since it wasn't anything like the belittling treatment that Finn and Rachel would sometimes give them during leader-y moments.

After all, Mercedes called Santana a star member, which was totally true and Brittany completely agreed. Finn and Rachel rarely acknowledged Santana's talent.

"Okay, fine." Mercedes finally said. "If you guys think she's okay and we can keep her, then fine, let's keep her." In a heavier tone, she added, "But if she ditches us before Sectionals, I'm coming after her."

"And I'll be going _all_ Lima Heights."

"Uh… deal." Brittany said, not sure if that's what she was supposed to say since she honestly didn't know what she would do if Amanda abandoned them. She probably wouldn't react as violently as Mercedes or Santana probably would, but she sure would be upset and angry about it.

With the issue settled, they walked back into the choir room together. Mack barely greeted them with a glance while Amanda fearfully looked at the three of them, her oddly-spaced eyes wide open.

"Your eyes are starting to creep me out." Santana noticed it, too. "Careful, a bug might fly into those huge things."

Before Brittany could say or do anything reassuring, Sugar came bounding into the choir room, vocalizing as loudly as her lungs could go. It was okay at first, attention-grabbing but not painful. It got them all to stare at her.

Then as Sugar eventually started aiming higher, Mercedes started to wince, Mack grimaced, Amanda pouted, and Santana clenched her fists and started walked towards Sugar.

Noticing Santana in time, Sugar hopped out of reach and said, "Preeeseeeenting ooouuuur newest meeembeeeeer…" Waving her arms in a grand, dramatic gesture, Sugar directed their attention to the door.

And in walked Lauren Zises.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>I still feel some sort of attachment to this, so I'm not going to drop it yet, but I'm getting more and more tempted to put it on hold and shift my attention to another fic I'm plotting, and though it's still glee-related, it's not going to be the faberry story I was originally considering.


	13. Chapter 13

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: I am so sorry for forgetting to put the linebreaks in the previous chapter. I added them already, but... yeah. Gosh. Lol, fail. So yeah... sorry to the people who had to read it before I edited it... (I feel mortified)

Anyway... I finally came up with a career for Mrs. Pierce.

And I did a lot of thinking and plotting, and I finally found some direction. I've already outlined the next four or five chapters (chapter 14 is already written, actually) and planned out the ends of most of the arcs. With any luck, this will end after Sectionals, around Chapter 18-20, depending on how much I end up expanding the remaining scenes and events I got lined up (and if I add any additional ones).

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

* * *

><p>Brittany drowsily sat up at the sound of the alarm clock and put it on snooze. Rubbing at her eyes, she slowly woke herself up, pushing back thoughts of the Lopez kitchen and Santana's father and Cheerios and slaps and punches. Jaws stretched open in a wide yawn, Brittany arched her back while reaching for the ceiling. Beside her, Santana grumbled something incoherently before pulling handfuls of the blanket closer to her chest and indirectly exposing Brittany's legs to the cool, early morning air.<p>

"Santana…." She called the name softly. When no response came, Brittany decided that there was no harm in letting Santana sleep in for five more minutes or so. They were up pretty late last night, starting with talk of how awesome it was that Zizes joined them, then moving on to acing Mrs. Hagberg's pop quiz, then things somehow escalated to getting their sweet lady kisses on… and more.

The memory of it was once again fresh and clear in Brittany's mind, of Santana looking more relaxed… and even _happier,_ than Brittany had ever seen her in the past few days. She remembered how Santana's kisses felt, and how her soft skin seemed to glow in the dim light, and how it felt to have that petite body underneath hers, tan skin against pale skin…

What time was it?

To keep herself from getting too caught up in the memory, Brittany glanced at the clock and saw that the five minutes was only just half over. There was still a little time, not much, but still enough that they didn't have to rush to get ready for school yet. They both had nightmares again, but to Brittany, it seemed like it took a shorter time than usual to calm Santana down.

That was progress, maybe?

Tentatively, Brittany brought her fingers towards Santana's face, tracing her dark eyebrows then following the thin path of her nose bridge. She could almost see how that area would scrunch up when Santana would laugh or when she was happy beyond belief. And Brittany could also remember and picture how Santana's eyes would go from the dark, hard color of when she was guarded to a soft, chocolate milk that was warm and welcoming.

"What're you doing?" Santana's eyes opened and groggily floated around before focusing on Brittany.

"Thinking about how pretty you are." Brittany brought her finger away from Santana's nose and moved it to her hair, to stroke the smooth, silky strands. The black eye from Mr. Lopez was barely there now, even without Santana covering it up so much with makeup. Brittany could see that some portions of the skin around Santana's eye were still a different shade than what they were supposed to be. But it was nothing compared to how Santana looked when it was still such a fresh wound.

Brittany would never be able to understand how someone could actually find it in themselves to hurt Santana so much, particularly people who were supposed to love her no matter what. And they did it because they refused to accept something that Santana couldn't change about herself. How could a person even do that? It was wrong. Brittany considered it to be unforgivably wrong.

"Riiight." Santana rolled her eyes. "I bet I look like Ursula."

"Ursula had great boobs."

That nosebridge scrunched up as Santana giggled. "No, Britts, they weren't. They were freaking huge and scary."

"You wanna be behind the wheel today?" Brittany asked, seeing no point in saying something to transition from one topic to the other.

"What?" Santana brow furrowed in confusion.

"You wanna be the one to drive us today?" Brittany asked. She thought about how (outside of the bedroom) Santana felt more secure when she had some sense of control. The past couple of days have been completely beyond Santana's control, from her outing (via Finn as well as the ad), to her parents' reaction, to their diminishing popularity, to the Cheerios situation…

Brittany figured that maybe letting Santana drive today would preserve the happy, relaxed Santana she saw last night and this morning. Santana deserved to be happy after all.

* * *

><p>Quinn stored her books in her locker distractedly, her mind more on glee club, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, Beth and the future than on <em>history<em>. Mercedes had suggested they all pitch in and buy Santana a cool blouse or bag or something of the sort. New Directions (and Mr. Schue) still like the idea of putting together a number for Santana, but with Sectionals looming so close, there isn't much time to prepare for anything other than competition performances.

And there was still no news from Rachel about her saying she'd help Quinn see Beth again.

Not that Quinn really believed it was possible. She doubted anything could be done about it. Besides, the less hopeful she felt about it, the less disappointed she'd be when it ultimately doesn't happen.

Quinn closed the locker door and jumped with a startled gasp when she found herself face to face with Rachel.

"Hi, Quinn!"

"Rachel, stop doing that!" Quinn placed a hand against the lockers and tried to regain some composure. God, was being sort-of friends with Rachel Berry such a tense, nerve-wracking experience? How many more times was this going to happen?

"Doing what?"

Running her hands through her hair, Quinn looked away from Rachel. The tension and stress… none of it was Rachel's fault. It wasn't right for Quinn to be blaming her or taking it out on her. "Nothing. Nevermind." She sighed, forcing herself to be calmer. "What's up?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow, and seemed to consider the pros and cons of calling Quinn out on her odd behavior. Thankfully, she instead said brightly, "I just wanted to be assured of your attendance in glee club today, and to tell you that I'm glad you were present yesterday."

"Er… thanks. And yeah, I'll be showing up today."

"Great!" Rachel grinned for a moment, then grew serious. "Can I… can I ask you something?"

At this, Quinn's uneasiness automatically increased. Past experience consistently resulted in Quinn spilling everything out everytime Rachel asked her things. It was easy to lie or hide things from Puck and especially Finn; and it was tricky yet still possible when it was Mercedes, Santana or Brittany. But Rachel? Whether it was her pushy talkativeness or how she weirdly reflected Quinn's past as Lucy (albeit an improved, more confident version), Rachel somehow managed to call forth some honesty and trust from Quinn.

It was weird.

Since Quinn didn't respond, Rachel cautiously added a little more detail about her question. "It… it's about Noah—I mean Puck."

"Are you going to ask me about Puck, too?" Earlier, Mercedes awkwardly asked if there was anything going on between Quinn and Puck. And then somehow it went to Mercedes sort of asking about what it was like being caught up between Puck and Finn, but the conversation abruptly ended at the entrance of their teacher, and they didn't pick the subject up again after that.

"I just wanted to know if you knew how he's doing." Rachel said hastily, in one breath.

"What?" _How he was doing?_ The last time they talked, Puck was about as hungover as Quinn was, and whining about wanting to steal Beth back. And she told him to accept the fact that they were never seeing Beth again... It was a conversation that didn't end on a happy note.

How _was_ he doing?

"I'm assuming that this situation with Beth has been affecting him as much as it's been affecting you." Rachel was hugging a pink notebook with gold stars and she seemed to tighten her grip on it, as if drawing comfort or reassurance from it. "Or at least maybe not as much or to the same extent, but still…"

"We haven't seen each other or talked to each other much lately." Quinn answered honestly, and tried not to feel guilty about not being more concerned about Puck. Whether she liked it or not, Quinn had to admit that they were dealing with the same problem. And one could say that they had similar ways of coping with it, too.

"I'm just… I-I… I'm worried about him because he always seems to be heavily hungover in school… or maybe even completely intoxicated."

"I guess he's still… er… coping. Adjusting." Quinn felt uncomfortable. She was pretty sure that Puck _was_ taking it badly, too. But she was busy figuring herself out and getting herself out of her own messed up head. She didn't have time to worry about him.

Was that a bad thing?

"Oh… well… should I try talking to him?" Rachel asked, refusing to drop the subject. The sight of Puck's face, his eyes tired and bloodshot, his voice desperate and pained... Quinn could see it and she tried to push it away. Neither of them deserved Beth. Quinn had _no idea what it meant to be a mother_ after all. And Puck had no idea how to be a father, either. He probably doesn't. He didn't have one, after all. "Or do you think Finn would have better luck reaching out to him?"

Quinn shrugged, "Rachel, I really don't know. I-"

"Quinn, it's okay." Rachel was quick to sense Quinn's rapidly rising agitation and instantly tried to soothe her. "I was just asking. And there's no need to worry about it, just focus on yourself."

"I… what?" Didn't focusing on herself mean being selfish? Which was supposedly one of Quinn's worst traits. Focusing on herself and her baby problems instead of maintaining her friendship with Mercedes or caring for Santana or giving a damn about Puck. That was Quinn being her selfish, horrible, cold self. How Rachel could encourage it was beyond Quinn.

"Have you been thinking more about college?" _and the amazing future I talked to you about instead of the crappy dead-end job in Breadstix you were imagining?_ Quinn almost heard what Rachel left unsaid. It put a temporary stop to Quinn's train of thought.

Putting aside the guilt and confusion over what Rachel said about focusing on herself and about Puck, Quinn thought instead about the colleges she'd considered. It was a little embarrassing and weird to talk about it, but she could trust Rachel. She was the reason Quinn started doing something about her future, after all. Something other than plotting to steal a baby. "Well… I've been thinking about…" Quinn bit her lip and hesitated since this would be the first time she would ever say it out loud. She felt nervous now. What if it was actually a stupid idea? Maybe it made sense in theory, but what if it would actually be really idiotic and impractical? That's how the baby-snatching plan started out and ended, after all.

Rachel was leaning forward, waiting for Quinn to finish the sentence and show that she was now doing more planning and thinking than moping.

Quinn tried again. "I've been thinking about…" This really could be a stupid idea. What were her chances? Unbearably slim, that's what they were. Unbearably and embarrassingly. But… whatever, she started, she might as well finish. "…Yale."

Instead of putting on a disapproving or patronizing expression, Rachel's smile was wide and proud.

* * *

><p>After school, they offered to drop Rory off at home before heading to Breadstix, but he waved them off, saying he was going to hang out at Finn and Kurt's place that day. Brittany still held mixed feelings towards Finn, a large part of her still angry at him and not ready to forgive him for what's happened to Santana. But part of her also didn't want to be mad at him and hold a grudge. She knew Finn was the kind of guy that practically lived to be praised and craved it when he didn't get it, but he also had some moments when his intentions were good. And maybe his bad attempt at an apology was more sincere than it sounded.<p>

If the mention of Finn had Brittany distracted, she figured that Santana might be thinking about him too. As Santana drove them over there, Brittany wondered if it was or wasn't a good idea to bring up the subject and talk about it.

On one hand, Santana would probably talk about it if she wanted to, if she needed to. If she would rather not, Brittany was better off respecting that. But on the other hand, Brittany also kind of wanted to discuss her confused feelings of anger and resentment with someone. But… maybe Santana wasn't the best person to discuss this with. Mercedes was an option… Quinn? A couple of days ago, Brittany thought it might've been a good idea, but Quinn was starting to go back to being distant, so… Brittany wasn't so sure about it.

Sugar… maybe.

Mike… Brittany would have liked to, but things had been kind of weird ever since she left New Directions for the Troubletones… actually even before that. Around the time they were auditioning for West Side Story.

Brittany was so absorbed in her thoughts that it came as a surprise when the car slowed to a stop when Santana parked it. There was an expression on her face that Brittany found tricky to read. Like her mind was also occupied by something, but whatever it was, Brittany couldn't quite be sure of just yet.

Still, she reached over across the car to Santana's seat and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek."Thank you for driving so awesomely."

Santana blinked in surprise before looking at Brittany and raising an eyebrow. "It's just driving, Britt. It's not like it's a big deal or anything."

Brittany just smiled at her before exiting the car. She saw how Santana's eyes lit up when she first took that driver's seat. At first, she was disoriented, still accustoming herself with the set up. But she got the hang of it fast enough, and seemed thrilled when she did. As much as Santana pretended it wasn't a big deal, Brittany could see how it meant something to her. That it _was_ a big deal for her.

Santana followed, handing the keys to Brittany. Together, they walked in and chose a table at the far corner. There were only a few people around today since it was still a couple of hours before the dinner rush. It was like they owned the place, and Brittany enjoyed the feeling.

They ordered breadsticks to share, and a milkshake each- strawberry for Santana, chocolate for Brittany. If they stayed long, they'd get dinner later on.

As Sandy the Waitress walked away after serving them, Brittany didn't miss how Santana glanced at her a few times before toying with the fork, flipping it over and over. "Britt… it's awesome that you let me drive today, and your parents are so cool for helping me out and everything…" Brittany already heard the '_but'_ before Santana even said it out loud. "…but I kind of wanna… earn a little of my own money, y'know?"

And how long must Santana have been thinking about this? Brittany knew that Santana had some money stashed at the bottom of the bag she brought from that night, but it clearly wasn't enough to get her through without help from Brittany's parents. What must that feel like? She couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Y-yeah." Brittany realized she left Santana hanging and immediately tried to put together a reply. "So… what'd you have in mind?"

Santana's eyes darted towards the door to the kitchen before squinting at Brittany. "Would it be weird if I waited tables here? Or even just mop their floors or whatever." Brittany opened her mouth to say that she wouldn't find it weird at all, but Santana didn't give her enough time to do so. "Or—yeah. Nevermind." Santana shook her head. "Whatever. I'll think of something else. Yeah. Nevermind."

"Uh… if you say so." Santana was moving from topic to topic, too fast for Brittany to be able to keep up. She was still trying to grasp the subject, trying to grasp how much the past several days was changing them. A year ago, Santana wouldn't even begin to consider such a job, finding it beneath her. A year ago, Brittany would almost never get angry, and would always just talk about Lord Tubbington or ponies whenever conflict arouse. Brittany would find every possible excuse to avoid confrontation of every sort. Santana would never take crap from anyone and would instill fear in any student that dared look at her the wrong way. _Or dress the wrong way_.

It wasn't so long ago that they would have sleepovers and their parents would be okay with the arrangement. Brittany and Santana were safe in each others' homes as much as their own.

It felt like that was lifetimes ago.

Santana leaned back against her seat, folded her arms across her chest and made eye contact with the fork. "Yeah…" It was obvious that she hadn't truly let go of the idea yet. Brittany could see it in the distracted, deep in thought look in Santana's eyes.

Was it really just barely more than a week ago that Brittany didn't wake up to Santana next to her every morning? And in the times that Brittany wasn't thinking about how great it was to have Santana so near, she was thinking about the events that led to that arrangement. Thinking about how Santana's parents and Finn and Reggie Salazar were the cause of all this. Thinking about the Cheerios and jocks that only made it worse. Looking at the discolored skin and the scraped knee.

Mom was right, it was better to move forward, not dwell on the past. Better to focus on working to making the future awesome.

Santana was trying to do that, and Brittany should be proud of her for it. She was. She really _was_. But Brittany couldn't seem to shake off the idea that this never would have happened if Finn never opened his mouth. That they wouldn't have had to do this if Salazar never aired that ad. That Santana wouldn't have been forced to resort to these things and adapt if her parents could have just accepted her and loved her the way she was.

Silence hung in the air as Brittany let Santana toy with the working at Breadstix idea some more. After all, Brittany herself had a lot on her mind, too. A lot of thoughts and emotions to sort through and make some sense of.

And where was all this anger and hate coming from?

Thinking about Finn and Salazar and Santana's parents... it made Brittany's blood boil in ways that had never been normal for her.

"Britt?"

Brittany sipped at the straw, hoping the chocolate milkshake could help her clear her mind. "Uhhuh?"

"Do you think…" Santana paused, rearranged her thoughts, formed her words. Brittany waited for her to continue. "Is it sort of my own fault that…" Santana flicked her straw, watched it sink deeper into her milkshake. "_This_ is happening?"

If by _this,_ Santana meant being driven out of her own home and out of the Cheerios and forced to deal with a huge bunch of instant changes, a world turned inside out and upside down… then the definite answer was "_NO_." Brittany spoke with so much force, that it attracted the attention of the few other diners, causing Santana to look around nervously.

Lowering her volume, Brittany forced herself to speak more levelly because Santana didn't deserve to be the target of her anger. "This isn't your fault, San. None of it is." It was Finn's. And it was Reggie Salazar's. And it was Mr. Lopez's. And it was Mrs. Lopez's. And it was Susan's and it was Bennet's.

_They did this to Santana._

"But what about the stuff I was saying to Finn?" Santana said, "I was worse to him that week than I'd ever been before. I mean yeah, he really is a huge tub of lard that can't sing for shit, but I…" Brittany watched Santana swallow and look away. There was so much going on in her head, and Brittany wished more than anything that she could help Santana feel better… and safer. Both in the outside world, and inside… in Santana's own mind. Safe from all the scary thoughts and nightmares. "I was being a bitch. And maybe this is my punishment."

It was painful to hear this coming from Santana. Like feeling Bennet's slap all over again. But it was so much worse than that. Confronting the Cheerios for Santana, that was hard. But defending her from herself?

How could Brittany fix this?

"Santana, _no_." Brittany took hold of both of Santana's hands and squeezed. "You didn't cause any of this_._" Hastily, Brittany searched her own mind for the right images to explain this, how to make these abstract, intangible words more concrete. "Saying you caused this is like saying… like saying…" Starting to panic because she didn't want Santana to fall back down into another fit of despair, to be dragged back into nightmares that were unfazed by daylight and consciousness, Brittany struggled to come up with something smart to say.

_You're a genius, Brittany._

Those were Santana's own words.

Brittany tightened her hold on Santana's hands and redoubled her mental search, sending thoughts flying and scattering like papers. _If you're such a genius, Brittany, why can't you come up with a genius thing to say?_

"It's like saying _what_?" Santana asked, and from the tone of her voice, it was obvious she wasn't convinced, and it was probably a matter of seconds before she was going to start giving reasons and evidence supporting the idea that she brought it on herself.

"Like it's Simba's fault that Mufasa died." Brittany finally got her mouth and mind to work and started spewing out every thought. "That Anastasia's the reason why the angry mob stormed the palace. That it's Neville's fault his parents don't recognize him. That it's Ron Weasley's fault he has red hair. That John and Sherlock are who to blame for the Reichenbach Fall. That it's really coz of the districts that the Hunger Games happen."

It was barely convincing Santana.

"San… it's like blaming yourself for the sky being blue."

"That'd be awesome though, being in control of the color of the sky." Santana said quietly.

Was that progress? Brittany clung to the hope that maybe this conversation could take a turn for the better and lighten up. _Santana deserves to be happy_. Why couldn't circumstance just allow her to be? "It would, wouldn't it? I like it blue, though. I like blue. But I think it'd also look interesting if it was pink or green."

"Or how 'bout polka dots?" A small hint of a smile played at the corners of Santana's lips.

"Awesome!" Maybe it _was_ taking a turn for the better! Santana coming up with a more imaginative color for the sky than Brittany? This was something! This was something, wasn't it? Brittany smiled, hoping to coax Santana further out of her bad mood.

But the almost-smile died away and Santana sighed. "I feel like… I dunno, Britt." She shook her head, and looked down at their hands. "It's just such a huge mess in my head right now." It was a tired whisper.

"Why don't you try talking to Ms. Pillsbury?" Brittany suggested. Who was she fooling? Helping Santana get through the past several days had not been easy, and now Brittany was starting to have nightmares of her own. She tried. She was still trying. But maybe simply telling Santana that dwelling on this stuff was like changing her clothes yesterday just wasn't going to cut it. Maybe this really wasn't something Brittany could do on her own.

Then suddenly remembering that Santana's hands had several bruises and cuts from that time she attacked the mirror, Brittany instantly loosened her hold and awkwardly whispered an apology.

Barely reacting to her hands, Santana said, "Wouldn't that be weird?"

"It might help…" Brittany shrugged. "But only if you're okay with it." The Santana from last year wouldn't even consider it, and would instantly close up and refuse to discuss her feelings in any way. But now… maybe Santana would be a little more open about it. After all, Ms. Holiday helped them through stuff before and maybe they could turn to Ms. Pillsbury this time. Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schue were totally out of the question since Brittany knew that Santana feared the former and didn't trust the latter.

"I… I dunno." Santana still had her eyes on their hands. Brittany lightly stroked the bruised skin, careful not to apply too much pressure and inwardly reprimanding herself for forgetting that they were there. "Gimme a couple of days to think about it, okay?"

"Okay." The last thing she wanted to do was put any pressure on Santana.

What was happening to them? It felt like everything was changing and even though not all of it was bad, the bad really struck hard. Sure, recent events had probably brought them closer to each other, and Santana was a lot more open with Brittany now more than she ever was before. But as thankful as Brittany was for that, she couldn't see how she could ever forgive the people that brought about all the changes.

"Britt?"

"Yeah?" Brittany answered as pleasantly as she could. Why was she so angry?

"Thanks."

That made Brittany smile and she was about to speak, but Santana went first, and this time she was the one to tighten her grip on their hands. "I mean it, Britt. _Really_." There was this intensity in Santana's eyes as she looked up from their hands and focused on Brittany's face. On her eyes. "Thank you. For… for sticking by me even if I'm a total bitch." Brittany winced slightly, hating every time Santana called herself that. "For giving me a place to stay and… and…" Santana struggled to find the right words to express how she felt and instead just settled with, "Y'know… for _everything_."

Lifting their hands, Brittany leaned forward and kissed Santana's fingers. "I love you. And you deserve to be loved and to be cared for and to be happy and to have a future." She hesitated, weighed out the pros and cons, then added, "_You're_ a _unicorn_."

Finally, Santana smiled, and started looking down. Brittany felt a sense of déjà vu, remembering Santana reacting similarly, with teary-eyed happiness when they confirmed that they were dating.

"I love you too, bicorn." Santana whispered.

* * *

><p>Somehow, Brittany managed to get Santana out of the self-destructive thoughts inside her head and even got her into the stomach-flipping, light, floaty feeling she got whenever she was reminded of the fact that Brittany S. Pierce loved her. Something that Santana used to think was impossible and out of the question and hopeless. And now? Now, Santana had someone who cared. Who loved her for who she was. And that someone even got Santana riled up and inspired enough to try talking to that old lady waitress that almost always wound up serving them.<p>

It was kind of awkward at first, since Santana lost momentum and stumbled over how to express herself, but the old lady (apparently her name was Sandy) flashed this kind sort of smile and said she'd talk to the manager about it and she'd help Santana. The least she could do for such regular customers. (Which Santana found a little strange since she was a rude customer majority of the time)

But after thanking Sandy and watching her walk off to get back to work, Santana felt elated. Maybe things were looking up and all the bad stuff was just in her head! There was no Cheerios incident today, Brittany let her drive, they ate at Breadstix, it was the weekend now, Sugar got them Lauren Zizes…

_Sugar got them Lauren Zizes_. Santana could still remember how that turned out and how she was surprisingly pleased to see the wrestler fitting her huge self through the choir room door and gracing the Troubletones with her attention-demanding presence.

Proudly skipping around, Sugar had told them that she hired Zizes to join them. And Zizes had nodded to this and said, "_It's true. She's paying me in both cash and Cadbury and I figured that even if show choir is stupid, an all-girl team is badass. Girl power's getting big and it'd help my rep. It's a win-win."_

The more she thought about it, the better Santana felt, and the more convinced she was that the pessimism must be just in her head. The idea that maybe the worst was over and maybe now it was time for things to start getting better... it took form in Santana's mind, in the place where she was careful about how hopeful she would allow herself to be.

Brittany loved her and Brittany would always be with her. Mercedes and Sugar were faithful friends and Troubletones had a new member and Sugar said they were likely to get more. The Mack and Amanda, as much as Santana still held a little suspicion about them, she could admit that they had been nothing less than trustworthy in the past few days, proving where their loyalty lay by staying instead of leaving.

Maybe... just maybe... it really _would_ get better.

Then Santana bumped into someone and started to apologize until she recognized _who_ it was.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Your eye appears to have healed." His voice wasn't rage-filled yelling like she'd last heard it. This time, it was calm and even, making a clinical observation while his dark eyes looked her up and down before resting on her face.

Santana suppressed a shudder. She couldn't bare to look him in the eye. Couldn't stand being so close to him. Couldn't relax. She could almost see the kitchen again, the counters and the dining table and chairs. Could almost hear his yells and see the rage and repulsion in his eyes. His hands looked so large and so _near_. Intimidating. Threatening. Frightening.

Wishing she could shrink or melt into the floor, Santana mumbled, "Yeah."

"Your mother and I have discussed your…" He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "...situation."

They have? What did that mean? Did they… Santana wanted to hope that maybe… just maybe they changed their minds. And if that were the case, she wasn't sure if she would be willing to move back in with them just yet. The idea scared her. But the thought of maybe hearing them say they forgave her… that maybe they did still love her… Could it be possible? Could she dare to think that it could happen?

She gathered up the courage to look up at him.

"You may return to our house…" Did that come out right? Did she hear that correctly? Santana felt hope start bubbling up inside of her… hope that maybe… maybe in the far future, things would all be okay and they would be supportive and- "…if…"

_If?_

"If you take back your… choice to…" His face scrunched up and his beard twitched, showing disgust at images only he could see. But he was acting civil right now, in his doctor mode, using the most diplomatic and politically correct words at his disposal. The same way he spoke to the families of patients with serious injuries or illnesses. "To feel for other girls." That was the wording he decided on. At least it was better than calling it the dyke behavior of fucking your best friend. "If you promise not to repeat those sins, you may return to our house."

It felt like being punched in the face all over again and feeling her eye explode in pain. Or more like her stomach, because Santana couldn't breathe… and she felt nauseous. A vile, sour taste took shape, hard and thick, in the back of her throat, clogging it.

The world was starting to spin until a pair of hands took hold of hers and anchored her to the ground. "Mr. Lopez… good evening."

"Britt…" Santana heard her own voice come out hoarse, and she felt like she was choking on words. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Good thing Brittany paid before Mr. Lopez appeared, because after Santana said the words, Brittany hurried her out of Breadstix and into the car. This time, she was the one who took the wheel and put as much distance as possible, as quickly as possible, between them and the man who haunted their thoughts and dreams. The man who was one of the causes of all this.<p>

The whole time, Santana was quiet and still, barely moving a muscle as she stared straight ahead in the passenger seat, not reacting everytime Brittany glanced at her or touched her hand or arm. It took all of Brittany's self control to keep from panicking and to successfully remember to breathe and drive continuously. Taking Quinn's advice from what seems to be a million years ago, Brittany put her focus on driving. Driving far away from Breadstix and Mr. Lopez. Driving closer to home.

She told herself to just keep breathing and driving. And she would look at Santana when she could afford to.

When they were several blocks away from home, Brittany stopped over on the side of the road and turned to Santana. But what could she say? _Everything would be okay_? Bad things happened the last time she tried to say that, so what should it be? What could she possibly say? It must be hell in Santana's head right now. How could Brittany help her out of it? The helplessness was painful. But she had to try anyway. "San…"

Santana reacted at the sound of her name, facing Brittany.

"Do you…" Brittany struggled to find the right words to use. "Are you…"

The wide-eyed, frightened look on Santana's face hardened, her eyes narrowing and her brow furrowing. "Let's forget it. I don't wanna talk about it. It never happened." She turned away and returned her focus to the road in front of them. "Just take us home. It never happened."

And that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Brittany started the car up again and took them home.

Home…

The Pierce house really was Santana's only home now, wasn't it?

* * *

><p><em>It didn't happen<em>. It was easier to pretend that she never ever dared to even imagine that they would be okay with it. That she never actually entertained the idea of her parents approving of her love for the most amazing and caring person in this world. She didn't need to deal with her parents painting such a clear picture of how conditional their _love_ for her was. Didn't need to feel all the wounds opening up again and coming back at full force, a hundred times more intense.

It _did not_ happen.

Fuck, she needed a drink.

She needed something to help her prove to herself that nothing happened. Something to help her wash down the horrible taste in her mouth and ease the squirming of her stomach and stop the trembling of her hands and knees. Something to help her forget. Something to erase this. Something to shut off the images that kept invading her mind. She _really_ needed a drink.

No.

No, she didn't want to cause trouble for Mr. and Mrs. Pierce. She didn't want to disappear without warning one night and come back with a hangover. Didn't want to spend their hard-earned cash on alcohol. What would they think of her if she did that? Would they still care about her? Santana wondered if they would be mad or disappointed or both. She wondered if they would still be willing to support her if she behaved like she usually would whenever her parents pissed her off or whenever she felt like not caring about what they thought.

But God, she wished there was an easier way to pretend it never happened.

It _never_ happened.

"Santana! Sanny! Sannysannysanny!" Santana wrestled with the thoughts and managed to pin them down long enough to see Emily bouncing around in front of her and tugging at her shirt. "Play with us! Pleeeaaaase?" Emily gave Santana her best puppydog pout.

"Emmy, don't' force her." Brittany tried to be subtle, bending over and whispering it to her sister, but Santana still heard it.

She could see Brittany eying her with unmasked worry. She could see Rory and Mrs. Pierce sitting at the table with a box between them. Rory had on a dopey smile, completely oblivious. In contrast, Mrs. Pierce's smile slowly faded as she looked from Brittany to Santana.

Santana didn't exactly feel like engaging in any supposedly fun bonding activity. She wasn't in the mood for that. Especially since Brittany and Mrs. Pierce will probably be busy staring at her when they thought she wasn't looking. But the thought of being alone wasn't so tempting either. If she were to be honest with herself, it _scared_ her. Being alone with her thoughts would mean facing wave upon wave of the emotions… of the disappointment… of the _pain_.

"What're we playing?" Santana asked as brightly as she could.

"Monopoly!" Rory answered, his grin widening when he thought Santana was showing interest. "Awfter playin' Call o' Duty at Finn's, we got t'talkin' aboot other games, and now I wanted t'play Monopoly wid you guys."

This wouldn't hurt. There was no pain in playing Monopoly with these people. This was better than acknowledging that _it happened_. "Sure!" Santana took a seat among them. "Mrs. Pierce, how 'bout we let the winner get a plate of your awesome cookies tomorrow?"

Mrs. Pierce stopped looking uncomfortable and relaxed when Santana and Brittany took their seats. "I was thinking of taking you all shopping tomorrow, but we can bake for the winner instead."

"Shopping?" Santana repeated, not sure how to take this since she was still broke.

"Yeah, I just got a check after sending in my latest work and I was planning to treat you all to some new clothes and whatever else you might want." Mrs. Pierce spoke with excitement and pride, and Santana found herself appreciating how generous the people in this family are… and how they were so willing to include Rory and Santana.

How could she possibly go out and waste their money by getting wasted? Santana didn't think she'd be able to find it in herself to do that after all they'd done for her. But she didn't know how much longer she could put up with blow after blow either.

"Can we bake _and_ shop?" Brittany asked while Emily rapidly nodded her head.

"Sounds like a good idea to me!" Mrs. Pierce consented, but didn't fail to add, "But you're all pitching in with our cookie-making. Agreed?"

It wasn't planned, but somehow they all managed to answer in unison, "Agreed!"

There was no pain here. Santana tried her best not to let the memories catch up to her, tried not to let the past consume her. It wasn't as easy as drinking herself stupid, but it was still possible. It just took more effort. She focused on the present. Because right now… hanging out with these people right now... she could almost… almost be… _happy_.

* * *

><p>Other than the Breadstix incident, the weekend went by pretty uneventfully. Something Brittany was incredibly thankful for. Santana preferred not to dwell on it and threw herself into bonding with Brittany's family and Rory, as well as homework, finishing pretty much everything that was due the following week. Sunday night, she spent her time helping Brittany prepare a speech to deliver in the cafeteria, in a final attempt to sway voters her way before Friday comes, when all this campaigning will finally come to an end.<p>

The thought of climbing onto a table and delivering a speech to a bunch of people who weren't expecting it made Brittany nervous. Dancing was so much easier, and it came to her so much more naturally, but there just wasn't any more time to prepare and rehearse. Besides, they didn't have Cheerios to be their backup dancers anymore.

Brittany was starting to think that she had high chances of winning though. Kurt, despite his good intentions, was not likely to win and Rick the Stick, despite his jock status, still didn't have the popularity and appeal of a Cheerio or a football player. Brittany figured that even if she wasn't exactly much of a Cheerio anymore now, she was still the more appealing candidate. Whatever they may think about Santana, and whatever the Cheerios themselves might think, the majority of the students would probably still be most willing to vote Brittany over Rick or Kurt.

But Santana insisted that it was better to be safe than sorry, and give one last big try at getting the school's attention. And they put all their focus into coming up with something that could be magical enough to sound like Brittany and convince people, but still muggle enough to be understood by those who were neither Brittany nor Santana.

With a sigh, Brittany put away thoughts of her campaign and put Santana at the forefront of her mind. She wished that this week would be better for Santana than the last two. The family bonding was great, and Santana did seem genuinely happy at some moments, but Brittany kept seeing how sad Santana was on the inside, whenever she thought no one was looking.

And the nightmares were still there. Brittany still dreamed of seeing Mr. Lopez, and sometimes it mingled with images of Santana in pain, and no matter how much Brittany ran or how hard she tried, she couldn't reach Santana. But it must always be so much worse in Santana's nightmares, with Brittany still having to wake her in the middle of the night to calm her down and remind her she was safe and in the Pierce house, far away from the Lopez kitchen.

Speaking of which, Brittany sort of took a peek at Santana's phone while she was in the shower, and the first message she saw made her dizzy with an insane mixture of rage and hurt.

"_We are disappointed in you for the choice you made. How selfish of you to turn down our offer. That was your last chance."_

From Santana's mom.

Brittany had to read it several times before she could believe that it was actually what she was seeing. She had just enough time to see that it was sent Friday night and that Santana didn't send a reply, before hurriedly putting it back and hearing Santana come out of the bathroom. At the time, she didn't know what to say, and whether or not she was supposed to.

But right now, all Brittany wanted to do was hug Santana. Hug her and tell her that she wasn't a disappointment. That the opposite was the real truth. That Santana wasn't disappointing. That Brittany couldn't have been more proud of Santana for being so strong and so brave to face so many disasters happening at once.

"Brittany!" She looked up at the sound of her name and saw Becky standing at the doorway to the classroom. "Coach Sue and Mr. Schue wanth to see you."

"Now?" Brittany asked, glancing at Mrs. Bletheim uncertainly.

"Now." Becky said.

"If it was just Schuester I wouldn't allow it." Mrs. Bletheim rolled her eyes, quietly reinforcing her dislike of the art programs. "But Sue is Sue. So go." She dismissed Brittany with a wave of her glasses in Becky's direction.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>I figured that with the kind of wiring that Mrs. Pierce has, she'd excel at a more creative job, something that allows her to explore things in that almost-Brittany-ish way of hers. And since she's home almost all the time (in this fic), it would have to be something that doesn't necessarily require office work. And then I realized that she'd be perfect as a children's book writer/illustrator.

Makes sense how Brittany gets all those stories about unicorns and ducks, right?


	14. Chapter 14

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: This week's episode (prom) made me absolutely hate Finn. They wrote him out to be such a douche but didn't follow through with it or give him any consequences. (as usual)

Now on Finn, in this particular piece, I'm trying to portray him as a clueless guy with some pride issues, but he has moments when he does have good intentions and he's trying to get it right even if he doesn't know how to, and sometimes he makes the most idiotic choices and sometimes he lets his anger get the best of him. This is the kind of Finn I'm trying to portray, more or less.

Just felt like saying that.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen<strong>

* * *

><p>Brittany hesitated at the doorway to Coach Sylvester's office. She glanced at Becky, who waved her clipboard, gesturing for Brittany to go ahead inside.<p>

After thinking about things they might want to talk about, Brittany went inside, more or less ready for something either glee-related or Cheerios-related. Or maybe even both. But instead, the serious expressions that greeted her, on the faces of Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schue, were unnerving.

"Am I in trouble?" Brittany asked, "I didn't mean to help Lord Tubbington cheat on his diet."

"What?" Mr. Schue raised an eyebrow and squinted, confused.

Coach Sylvester just rolled her eyes and spoke softly, "You are not in trouble, sweet, sweet Brittany. Please take a seat in front of my desk on that chair next to Mr. Schue. The chair is that thing with the four legs that you sit on."

Trying not to frown and show her disapproval and frustration too obviously, Brittany sat down. As much as she disliked the way Coach Sylvester talked to her, the woman was still one of the most frightening, temperamental Brittany knew. She didn't want to risk angering the beast. What Brittany _did_ do though, was the next best thing. "Are chairs and tables siblings, or just best friends? Or lovers?" Their baffled expressions encouraged Brittany to keep going, building a careful and detailed metaphor for herself and Santana. "Because I could never be sure, they've always been so close and inseparable. People use them without really thinking about how it makes the chairs and tables feel, but at least chairs and tables can always relate to each other and understand each other and be there for each other. The chair understands the table like no one else can, and the table understands the chair best."

The small speech was concluded with, "Actually, I think they're soulmates."

For a moment, the two teachers just stared at her in silence, completely confused by everything she said. _Take that, Sue!_ Brittany just barely succeeded at suppressing a triumphant smile.

Mr. Schue was the first to move on and begin speaking. And Brittany didn't like his tone anymore than Coach Sylvester's. "Brittany, we have to talk to you about something important." He was now leaning forward in his seat with the most grave look on his face. It made Brittany squirm uneasily and wish Santana were here. "And I want you to think carefully about these things that we're going to talk about."

"And if you have trouble understanding anything, just say so and we can write you an explanation in crayon."

What did Coach Sylvester have against Brittany and her attachment to crayons? It frustrated her because it was so hard for most people to just accept that Brittany felt freer with crayons. Crayons came in many colors, and using them was like being back in her childhood when it was easier for everyone else to see the rainbows and magic in the air.

"Is it about those Selena Gomez pregnancy rumors?" Brittany asked, thinking that it couldn't hurt for Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester to try being a little more imaginative and see Brittany's colors instead of the idiot they were sure they were looking at. But if they insisted, she'd show them. Show them and blow their minds. "Because I already told Finn that they weren't true."

Finn.

There it was again, the negative... aggressive feelings. Burning just under her skin.

"It's about Santana." Coach Sylvester answered, with an impatient roll of her eyes.

Brittany felt her stomach squirm. For now, she felt more nervous than angry. "What about Santana?" Why did they want to talk about Santana? And why now? Coach Sylvester might want to bring up their absences from practice, but what would Mr. Schue want? If it was to announce the Mash-Off winners, he could have done that with Ms. Corcoran in the auditorium and had everyone present. Actually, if it had anything to do with glee at all, Ms. Corcoran should to be here.

While Brittany tried to think of possible reasons that they would want to talk to her about Santana, she noticed a picture posted on the wall, of the Cheerios forming a pyramid with Santana at the top. It reminded Brittany of the request she made the last time she was here. "Oh, And whatever happened to the uniform for Santana I asked you about ages ago?"

"Whatever happened to you girls and your attendance?" Coach Sylvester responded to Brittany's question with another question. "You've both been missing practice, and as far as I know, Brittany, _you_ still have your uniform with you."

Deciding that she was better off being blunt and straight to the point instead of cryptic and confusing, Brittany said, "The other Cheerios said they don't want us on the team."

"They _what_?" Coach Sylvester's eyes suddenly seemed to bulge out of their sockets. "That is _not_ their call to make! And one of them even dared to say that you girls quit because you hated my training program." Well sometimes Brittany and Santana did hate it, but she figured that now wasn't the appropriate time to point that out.

"Sue, this is beside the point." Mr. Schue spoke up before Coach Sylvester could start giving some long, passionate speech. "Let's get back on track, okay?" He waited for Coach Sylvester to roll her eyes and nod before turning to Brittany. "About Santana... Brittany, was she really… driven out of her home?"

Quinn said that Mr. Schue already knew about it ages ago. "Uhhuh." Brittany nodded. She guessed he just wanted to make sure and hear it from Brittany. Though she wondered why he wasn't asking Santana herself.

"Are you sure?" Coach Sylvester asked.

"Y-"

"Are you _really_ sure?" Mr. Schue barely gave Brittany time to finish.

"I am!" Brittany looked from one teacher to the other, getting more and more frustrated by their questions. Now, she wasn't even nervous anymore.

Mr. Schue made eye contact with Coach Sylvester then focused on Brittany. "This is a really serious thing to say, Brittany. And like we said before. We want you to think carefully about this." Did they think that she _wasn't_ thinking carefully? "Are you sure it's not just an… uh…" Mr. Schue leaned back against his chair. "Maybe it's just an extended sleepover."

Brittany felt her jaw clench. After everything Santana was going through, they were actually going to downplay it and assume Santana was just sleeping over for the heck of it? Why would they do that?

After waiting for a response that Brittany didn't feel like giving, Coach Sylvester spoke up. "Like… do you think maybe Santana just doesn't want to face her parents, so she's staying with you?"

That anger again. The things they were saying and implying… it was feeding the anger. Brittany was torn between feeling mad and disgusted with these two adults that were supposed to be smarter than her but were acting like they weren't, and feeling surprised and uneasy with how strong the anger was getting.

"So… what do you think, Brittany?" Mr. Schue asked.

Think? What did she _think_? Brittany kept her voice even as she spoke. "I _know_ what Mr. Lopez did to her. I _know_ that they don't want her in their house as long as she's a unicorn. I _know_ that she has no place else to stay but with me. I _know_ that she's safer in our house than anywhere else."

She stood up and walked out of the office before either of them could start yammering on and on about how she couldn't know stuff like that and how she should think very carefully and how she should be very sure.

By the time she got back to class, Brittany was still fuming.

* * *

><p>"I think Yale would be perfectly ideal for you." Ms. Pillsbury neatly rearranged the papers on her desk. "Given your admirably high grades, you have a good chance at being accepted."<p>

Quinn wasn't sure if she was hearing it correctly. Did Ms. Pillsbury _actually_ say that Quinn _did_ have a chance at getting into Yale? And a _good_ chance at that? She was still reeling from Rachel's praise and approval, and now Ms. Pillsbury thought it was a good idea, too? Neither of them thought it was a stupid! This couldn't be happening in real life. Now _way_.

This was just really... Quinn had to blink several times to make sure she wasn't still in bed, dreaming.

"I'm… I… thanks."

Ms. Pillsbury smiled. "You're welcome, Quinn. Oh, and I've been meaning to ask you… I mean if you don't mind." Ask about what? Quinn's mind immediately went right to all kinds of scenarios that involved how idiotic it was to actually believe she might be able to go to Yale. "How has Santana been?"

"Santana?" Quinn didn't expect that. "She… she's managing." People have been asking her a lot lately about how her friends were. Quinn wasn't sure how she felt about it, especially since she didn't have exact answers, given the fact that she had put a lot of effort into isolating herself not so long ago.

Given, Quinn was trying to fix that now. Again. But it didn't mean she was already making progress and had answers now.

"I know Rick Nelson was suspended after initiating a fight with her. And I've heard word of the Cheerios harassing her and I don't see her or Brittany in uniform anymore. And there's the rumor going around that she's currently living in Brittany's house." How did Ms. Pillsbury pick up on all of this?

"Is this even your business?" Though Quinn made sure to keep her tone calm and respectful, she was thinking about how she wasn't sure if Santana would appreciate Ms. Pillsbury knowing so much. "Like it doesn't really concern you." Since she had been under the impression that it was knowledge only within the two glee clubs and their directors, Quinn found this news a little shocking and a little unnerving. Santana was one of the most guarded people Quinn knew, probably about as closed up as Quinn herself was. How weird would it be to have so many people know so much?

Ms. Pillsbury seemed uncomfortable after Quinn spoke, fiddling with things on the desk and rearranging the placement of pens and pencils. "Will—I mean Mr. Schue and I were talking about it and we just wanted to sort out the facts and the rumors… and… and show our support and offer any help if she needs any."

"Shouldn't you be talking to her directly?"

"Yes, well…" Ms. Pillsbury got herself to stop fidgeting and placed her hands on her lap. "We were hoping that you and Brittany could… get Santana warmed up to the idea of us wanting to help her before we actually… talk to her directly."

If Quinn wasn't mistaken, it almost sounded like they were afraid of talking to Santana directly. "Okay…"

"I—we—I don't mean to seem nosy, okay?" Ms. Pillsbury said, "It's just that we don't want her to ever feel like we don't care. As teachers, we care about our students, and when something bad happens, we want to do whatever we can to help them get through their hardships and overcome their obstacles."

And where were they when Quinn was struggling with the Beth issues? She still was, and all she got from the teachers were yelled lectures about her selfishness. Like she needed more reminders about how horrible of a person she was.

Maybe she did.

"I'll… keep that in mind and try talking to her." Quinn stood up, not wanting to dwell on this any longer. "I've got to get going. Thanks for your time, Ms. Pillsbury."

* * *

><p>Brittany was still mad and on her way to the cafeteria when Mercedes stopped her. "Hey, Brittany! You got a minute? I kinda gotta talk to you."<p>

Biting back a snappy, confusing reply, Brittany reminded herself that Mercedes never did anything wrong. She was a good person who deserved to be in contact with a calm, collected Brittany. Not an angry and irritable Brittany. What happened in Coach Sylvester's office had no connection to Mercedes. She didn't say Santana was just sleeping over or that Brittany should _think very carefully_ about the situation.

Mercedes was okay.

And all Brittany had to do was be nice to her. Behave. Listen.

Taking a deep breath, Brittany managed to get herself to relax somewhat. "Yeah. Sure." She exhaled slowly and smiled.

Smiling back, Mercedes said, "Is it okay if we talk in the choir room?"

Not sure where this was going but suspecting that it was probably something serious, Brittany nodded. For a moment, she felt a hint of suspicion, and a little reluctance. It was tempting to listen to those and walk away from Mercedes, but instead Brittany simply reminded herself that what happened in Coach Sylvester's office wouldn't be repeated in the choir room. Two completely different places. Two completely different situations.

They walked together, and as they passed the Geography classroom, Brittany recalled seeing Mercedes and Shane glaring at each other nearby several days ago. She didn't have the chance to ask about it because of all the Cheerios drama keeping her busy. And there was that time last week when Mercedes seemed bothered by something other than the Troubletones but changed track halfway through.

"Is this about what you wanted to talk about last week?"

"What?"

"You…" Brittany wasn't sure now if she really had made the right assumption about Mercedes. It was possible that she read it wrong. "You seemed… bothered last week… well…lately… Bothered like an evil elf took all the rainbow ducks out of your life." The more she said her thoughts out loud, the less sure of it Brittany felt. "And it seemed to be about… about something other than Troubletones?"

Mercedes looked surprised for a moment, then she kept her eyes on the ground and they walked in silence for a while.

"This… isn't about… _that_." Mercedes said so softly, Brittany almost didn't hear it.

"Well you can always talk to me about anything." Brittany offered, and watched as Mercedes seemed to think about it.

Whatever was troubling Mercedes, Brittany was willing to be there for her and hear her out. She may still be feeling edgy after Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester ruined the morning, but Brittany wasn't going to let that get in the way of being as good a friend as she could be. It wasn't easy to separate her mad feelings from her friends-with-Mercedes feelings, but it was still possible. Brittany neatly separated them into two piles and waited for Mercedes to speak.

"When you were with Artie…" Mercedes started slowly, which was good because the subject caught Brittany completely off-guard.

_Being with Artie?_ It had been a _long_ time since Brittany last thought and talked about that time. She regretted hurting him, and she wasn't proud of herself for letting her defense mechanism of playing dumb take control when he confronted her.

"Were you already in love with Santana at the time?"

* * *

><p>As hard as she was trying to keep it out of her head, thoughts of her parents kept forcing their way through Santana's defenses. Seeing her father again only made memories of the night they found out so much clearer and sharper. Santana's eye almost started throbbing again. The yells of their disgust and disappointment, of her sinfulness… it seemed to echo in Santana's ears.<p>

Why did he have to be visiting Breadstix that time? Why did she have to be reminded of how they just couldn't accept her?

Coming to terms with her feelings for Brittany had been one of the most difficult things Santana had ever had to do. And it took her so long to accept that she couldn't feel anything for guys no matter how hard she tried. It took so much heartbreak to finally realize that she was completely in love with Brittany S. Pierce. And it was the happiest, most magical, most rainbow-filled day when they got together.

Brittany made things better.

And Santana's parents couldn't see that.

All they saw was abnormality.

"Hello again."

Santana's muscles tensed at the sight of the sophomore jock. This was _not_ the time. She didn't have the energy for this. "Get your wrinkled forehead and oversized jaw _out of my sight_ before I shred you to pieces with the razorblades in my hair because you're making my eyes _physically hurt_ right now." She used the most menacing tone she could muster, hoping to scare him away before things got worse.

And she was just _so_ close to the cafeteria, too.

Where Brittany probably was already.

Brittany must be waiting for her right now.

"Aww, come on now. Don't be like that." Coleman spoke softly; attempting what he might have thought was a seductive, husky purr. Which it wasn't. "Give me a chance, babe."

Not bothering to hide her disgust, Santana grimaced.

"I could rock your world." Coleman dared to try again at putting a hand on her waist.

* * *

><p>"I was already in love with Santana when I got together with Artie." Brittany admitted, feeling a little uncomfortable about going back there, but deciding that it was okay to talk about it. Mercedes also seemed like she really wanted to know "And… Santana didn't want to be with me at the time, but Artie did. And with Artie, I got to…"<p>

Mercedes looked like she wanted to say something to get Brittany to go on, but wasn't sure if she should. Like she was eager to hear the answer, but afraid of showing how eager she was.

"I got to experience being really _with_ someone." Brittany wasn't sure how to truly express what she meant by this, but she tried anyway. "Like… I did stuff with a lot of other guys before. It's like common knowledge, like gravity existing." The very certain and unquestioning nod Mercedes made further proved how much of a well-know fact it was.

"But with those other guys… it was like just eating candy when I feel like it, y'know?" It was just sort of a for-the-hell-of-it meaningless thing Brittany used to do. It was fun, it made her feel pretty good, but it wasn't fulfilling like a real meal. Just a snack. "And then being in a relationship with Artie was like getting a rainbow, when I really needed a double rainbow from Santana."

At Mercedes's confused expression, Brittany knew she failed to get her point across, so she tried again, "It's like… Artie proved to me that it's better with feelings. And at the time, Santana didn't want to include feelings in the stuff we were doing." The look of understanding was accompanied by a nod.

"And I started to kind of… y'know. I kind of started to love Artie, too. Then Santana said she loved me, and then I got really confused. And I never wanted to hurt Artie. Ever. And I wanted Santana to be able to accept herself before getting into anything with me… On top of that was all that confusion in my head like my thoughts were all storm clouds instead of sunlight."

"How did you get over the confusion?"

Brittany remembered how she struggled to balance being Santana's best friend and Artie's girlfriend, particularly with feelings for Santana being in the picture. And the events that led to her and Artie's break up.

"Well the thing about Santana and I…" How could she explain the bond they shared? How could Brittany make Mercedes understand how they would always be pulled to each other? The chair and table thing might not be the right story to tell Mercedes to explain it. "Well y'know we've been best friends forever, right? She knows me better than anyone else in this world, and I know how much of a unicorn she is better than anyone else. And she's like red, orange and yellow, while I'm green, blue, violet and indigo."

"Colors of the rainbow?" Mercedes was trying. Brittany was getting frustrated having to spell everything out for her, but she could appreciate that Mercedes was at least _trying_ to follow. Which was a lot more than what Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester did with Brittany this morning.

"Yeah. We're different, but we compliment each other." Brittany explained. "And at the end of the day, Santana is the one for me. It was okay with Artie… but Santana and I… It's us. It's always been _us_." There weren't really enough words with which Brittany could truly describe it, let alone explain it.

It just _was_.

"Yeah, I think… I think I get it." Mercedes said.

"I could see Artie walking one day, but I couldn't see him walking towards me in a suit while I'm in a white dress and a hat with a veil." Brittany gave it one more try, just to make it as clear as she could. "But I can see two women. One beautiful unicorn Latina and the other one with magical legs that could dance across the universe. And they're sitting together at a porch, holding hands and watching their grandchildren playing in the garden while Lord Tubbington's descendants -or clones, depending on how advanced technology is at the time, maybe even Lord Tubbington could actually be the one there because of time machine advancements- either way, there are cats there on the garden too, and they're playing with our grandchildren."

Brittany wasn't sure if Mercedes's wide-eyed stare was a good thing or a bad thing. She decided to leave out the part where there's a rainbow in the background and unicorns in the stables and a bunch of ducks in the lake they bought from all the money they earned either from Brittany's dancing studio or Santana's lawyer career or singing career or whatever it is Santana chose to spend her life working on.

"Brittany, that's… that's…" _Stupid, I know. Everybody thinks that. _"That sounds really sweet." Mercedes didn't think it was stupid? Brittany had been so busy preparing herself to hear her intelligence being downplayed, that she was in shock when Mercedes praised Brittany and touched her arm. "And thanks for sharing that with me."

"S-Sure!" Brittany was still baffled by the fact that Mercedes understood her. "Why'd you ask, anyway?"

Mercedes didn't answer, and by that time, Brittany wasn't looking for one anymore because the sight of the choir room full of people became the more pressing question. "What's going on?"

"You could say that this is a Santervention." Kurt answered from where he sat, legs neatly crossed at the ankle, hands on his knees.

Almost all of New Directions was here, with a few exceptions. There was Rory, Artie, Tina, Mike, Quinn, Kurt, Blaine, Sugar and Mercedes. For some reason, the tense atmosphere Brittany sensed made her feel uncomfortable. It was a sense of danger kind of feeling that gave her the urge to hide or flee.

Which didn't make sense since they were her friends, weren't they? She was supposed to be safe with them.

"By Santervention, would you be referring to Santa Clause or Santana?" In an attempt to put herself more at ease, Brittany cracked a joke they were supposed to laugh at. Or at least Santana would have if she was here. "Or some sort of Hispanic celebration?"

No one laughed or even smiled.

Why couldn't Santana have been here to calm this tense feeling of foreboding?

"Britt, we were hoping to talk to you about Santana's situation." Mercedes said.

Them too? Brittany probably should have felt glad to know that they actually managed to look past their own lives to notice Santana. But right now, after the disaster in Coach Sylvester's office, Brittany was starting to think that people were too convinced that Brittany was an idiot and Santana was a bitch to be able to really feel any concern for them.

"What about it?" Brittany had to remind herself that this was a different situation, that Coach Sue and Mr. Schue weren't in this room, and this was different. She spoke calmly and hid her rising agitation.

"We think that it's really serious business that Santana's dad hit her." Quinn said, glancing at the other people in the room as if to check that they were all really thinking the same thing. They nodded to confirm that.

"I know that like I know Lord Tubbington hides his cigarettes under his litterbox and his beer under the fridge." She had to do it. Brittany's steadily growing irritation was making the temptation to snap just harder and harder to resist. Her temper was bubbling so close to the surface today, it almost scared her. And right now, they were provoking it with the unspoken implication.

They seemed to think that Brittany didn't have the capacity to grasp the gravity of Santana's situation. It was insulting and frustrating. And if Brittany were to be honest with herself, it was painful and tiring, too.

And the only way she knew how to cope with tension was with the use of nonsense comments and sort-of jokes that only Santana could understand.

Which only reinforced the idea in everyone else's heads that Brittany had a brain smaller than plankton.

Thinking about the vicious cycle made her feel helpless and just more irritated.

"Brittany, do you really understand what's going on here?" Blaine asked, in a tone that sounded too patronizing for Brittany's taste. "It's a big deal for something like this to happen."

If Santana were here, she would have automatically rushed to Brittany's defense, brandishing weapons in the form of barbed words about Blaine's hair, eyebrows or bowties. Hell, maybe even something that insulted all three. Plus his height.

"We're not sure if you really get it," Artie spoke up, "This isn't serious like losing a magic comb or Santa's elves having a hard time delivering gifts." Artie was trying to put things in what he thought was Brittany's perspective, but at the moment, it was too difficult to appreciate his effort while everyone else watched her with exaggeratedly serious expressions on all their faces. "It's more than that, Brittany."

Using all her restraint, Brittany spoke quietly, her voice tight and strained. "I'm aware of that." She realized her hands were clenched into fists.

"Don't you think that maybe the incident should be reported?" Tina suggested. Beside her, Mike bobbed his head up and down in agreement.

"I've asked her before and she said she didn't want-"

"But don't you think Mr. Lopez should face the consequences of his actions?" Mercedes barely gave Brittany time to finish.

The mention of the name reminded Brittany of last night's dream, of being outside the Lopez house and hearing Santana's screams coming from behind the door. The sounds pierced Brittany's heart more than it did her ears, and each pound against the door did nothing. Every time Brittany drove her body against the door in a desperate, frenzied attempt to burst in and save Santana, nothing happened. The door remained unyielding. And when Brittany tried the windows, punching and kicking with everything she had, not even the smallest crack appeared. And she just watched helplessly through the glass as Mr. Lopez dealt blow after endless blow.

Brittany was reaching a point when she was starting to question what the reality was and what the dream was. Which was an injury Mr. Lopez actually caused and which was just something Brittany imagined.

"Of course." Brittany said._ If any of you knew me at all, you'd know what I think about violence._ She was supposed to add that, but instead what came out was, "I want it like I want Santa's elves to have rights." _Why did she keep doing that? WHY?_

"Brittany, I'm starting to think that you really haven't grasped how severe this is." Kurt said.

Quinn stood up and walked over to Brittany. "Britt, please. Hear us out, we only want to help you do what's best for Santana."

_And where were _you_ all last week?_ Brittany swallowed the retort, almost choking on it as she forced it back down. After Quinn talked about being around to support them after the Mash-Off, and giving time, attention and comfort during the weekend, she all of a sudden pretty much vanishes from the face of the earth the following week. At the time, Brittany brushed it off as Quinn being busy, but given this situation and a boiling temper, Brittany didn't feel like being so forgiving anymore.

"If you think that maybe this is just a really long sleepover or something, it isn't." Artie added, "It's-"

"_I know that_!" Brittany screamed.

They all stared at her, with wide, wide eyes.

Quinn took a step back.

"You think I didn't try?" Brittany looked at each of them one by one. "You _really_ think I didn't try? You think I find it okay that Santana was hurt? You think I'm _okay_ with the fact that I wasn't there for her when he did that to her? You think I don't wish on_ every single damn star in the sky_ and_ every single damn four leaf clover on the ground_ that this didn't happen to her or that I was there to stop him somehow?"

Her hands were shaking, her _everything_ was shaking.

And _now_ they were quiet.

Well _she _wasn't. She was yelling louder than she'd ever yelled before. "Do you guys _honestly_ think that when I have to hold her at night and wait for her to stop crying about her nightmares, that I don't imagine ways he should pay for doing this to her? You think I don't hate Finn for being at the very start of all this? You think I don't wait for the day that Reggie 'The Sauce' Salazar gets put into an oven so he can learn what it feels like to be a pizza because he used Santana like an ingredient for his campaign and didn't think for one second about how that ingredient might feel about being used?"

"Brittany-" Quinn tried to speak, but Brittany cut her off.

"No, you guys. You guys hear me out. _You all listen to me right now_." She was pacing from the one side of the room to the other, and still shouting out every word because that was apparently the only way to get through to them. To show them that she wasn't like some flat piece of cardboard. "I understand how big of a deal this is, but you know what? I also understand that no matter how many times I try to say that, no one will hear it just like no one sees rainbows like I do. And I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that I hate seeing this happening to Santana."

Tina was getting teary-eyed. Rory looked pale and frightened. Quinn and Mercedes were upset. Sugar couldn't even look at Brittany.

But Brittany was too angry to care. Too angry to even be afraid of herself being angry. "I _hate_ seeing her in pain, hate hearing in pain. I hate the Cheerios for being so mean to her and kicking us off the team just because they can't handle our unicorn and bicorn magic. I hate the way some of the guys look at her like being a unicorn is like being a porn star. I hate how I can still remember _exactly_ how she looked that night. How her eye was like broken magenta, orange, red and burgundy crayons and how her knee was like a defective red pen that oozes ink all over your pencil case."

"I hate this darn situation." Brittany swiped at the nearest object- the box of sheet music on top of the piano. The collision made between her hand and the box was a loud boom that was followed by the echoing thud of it hitting the ground. "_I hate this fucking school!_"

With nothing left to say, Brittany stormed out of the choir room, making sure to bang the door behind her.

* * *

><p>"If you value your hand, you will keep it away from me." Santana swatted his hand away and tried to walk past him, but he moved to block her path.<p>

"You playin' hard to get?" He did it again, and this time, he placed both his hands on her waist and didn't remove them when she tried to push them away. "I'm only trying to help you become normal, y'know. What does your blond girl do? I can do it like a hundred times better."

"I _am_ normal and I don't need your help for _anything_." Santana couldn't deny to herself that she was starting to feel as afraid as she was mad. "Now get the hell away from me because I don't have time for creeps like you."

Her protests and rejections seemed to have no effect. Coleman tightened his grip, and the invasion felt like fire searing her skin. "You just need the right guy and I'm the perfect man to do it."

Santana didn't notice that she was stepping backwards and he foreward until she realized that her back was getting dangerously close to a wall. _Where was Brittany_?

Clenching her fist, Santana was about to give him a painful uppercut but was instead taken by the surprise of his lips smashing into hers. His tongue forced its way through her teeth, the foul taste of his saliva making her throught tighten and her skin crawl.

With her body wriggling and squirming to get out of his grip, her left hand dug nails into his shoulder and her right delivered a punch to his jaw that sent him reeling back.

"Don't you ever fucking do that again." Santana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, almost gagging with repulsion.

"Is this a lesbo thing, playing rough?" Coleman raised an eyebrow and a smirk replaced his temporarily stunned expression. "Coz I can play rough."

Before Santana could react, the jock barreled into her, shoving his tongue down her throat while her body slammed against the wall. The impact caused pain to rush up and down her back. She squirmed, punched and clawed, but he had one hand grasping a handful of her hair, and eventually, her arms were trapped between their chests.

_Britt, where are you?_

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>I'll be able to update again on Friday because the next chapter is already written and just needs some proofreading and polishing. But after that, I'm not sure anymore about how regularly I can update since school will be starting again on the 21st, and I've got a lot of stuff to get done. So we'll see.

Regardless, I intend to see this story end, and it will be finished in a few months.


	15. Chapter 15

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: This chapter was hard to write.

And I have a little explanation for Santana's savior at the end of the chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

* * *

><p>Santana felt her heart beating at a rapid, frantic pace, trying to escape this horrific nightmare of an experience. It was hard enough for her to breathe with his mouth enveloping hers, but the pressure of his chest against hers and the wall against her back was constricting, slowly squeezing the fight out of her.<p>

Faintly, she heard whispers. Were there actually people just _watching_ this like it was some kind of sick show?

_Brittany! Where are you?_

Somewhere under her terror, anger and disgust, Santana managed to think about her parents and how this might have made them feel. Would they happily stand by and watch and cheer as some boy tried to _fix_ their daughter and make her _normal_?

_Britt…_?

Her attempts to fight and push him back seemed to only feed his strength. The panic doubled when one of his hands managed to snake their way under her shirt. The other hand tightened its hold on her hair.

Then all at once, he was pulled off of her, and Santana leaned against the wall to support her weakened, trembling body.

_Britts?_

The person who saved Santana was blond, but it wasn't Brittany. Santana watched as he slammed Coleman against the lockers and lifted him off his feet. Noting the pale hands gripping Coleman's letterman jacket, Santana looked at her savior's face and instantly recognized the way off lip-to-face ratio.

"Trouty Mouth?" The two words came out in a breathless gasp.

Sam barely seemed to hear as he banged Coleman against the locker several more times. "What kind of a sick freak would you have to be to do that to a person?" Every several words were punctuated by an impact. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"What the fuck is your problem, man?" Coleman yelled, squirming and trying to free himself of Sam's grasp. "I was doing the bitch a favor and helping her become normal!"

_Normal_? Hearing him say the word and defend himself with it gave Santana a rush of strength that drove her foreward. "You can't change me!" She swung and gave his jaw a punch that was long overdue. "This is the way I fucking am and I couldn't change it even if I still wanted to."

Barely thinking about what she was doing, Santana delivered several more punches. The voices in the background were just incoherent noise blurring into each other, not important enough to draw her attention away from attacking this boy who was so convinced that he was the _right guy_. Some sort of messiah put on this earth to cleanse her of her sexuality.

It was just Coleman that Santana could see right now. Coleman and her father and her mother and Finn.

"Fuck you and everyone like you!" Santana barely felt his arm hitting her ribs, and she retaliated by raking her nails across his cheek, imagining that her fingertips grazed the coarse hairs of a neatly trimmed beard. Her fists pounded on a chest that felt more like a button down shirt instead of a letterman jacket.

Distantly, she heard her name being called, and hands pulling her away from the button down shirt and the tan fists and the beard.

"Santana? Santana, calm down." Santana blinked, and remembered she was in McKinley's hallways and not the Lopez kitchen. Sam's face dominated Santana's view, his hands gripped her by the shoulders.

There were at least ten other people there, watching them, almost surrounding them. Staring. Gaping.

Off to the side was Coleman, held in place by the vice-like grip of Coach Beiste's enormous, powerful hands. The way she was glaring at the sophomore had him terrified.

When Sam noticed that Santana was starting to calm down, he relaxed his grip. "You okay?"

What little she could remember of the quick, blurry memory included having a breakdown infront of Sam Evans, Josh Coleman, Coach Beiste and a bunch of random students. Not a particularly desirable experience, really. The image of Mr. Lopez was still fresh in Santana's mind, and the fear was still here, her heart still trying to hammer its way out. But she used her fingers to brush hair out of her face and said, "Totally. I coulda handled that myself, you know."

Coleman made a mocking sound of disagreement that Beiste silenced with a rough shake and a threat. "You're in a whole lot of trouble, kid. The Panther's gonna make you regret gettin' out of bed this morning."

"Yeah, of course you could've. I know." Santana narrowed her eyes at Sam and tried to detect sarcasm in his tone. But it was either that he was being honest or just really _really_ bad at being sarcastic. "But I wanted to help out anyway."

"Well… thanks." Santana had to admit gratitude. "What're you and your lips doing here, anyway? Did they run out of chapsticks at your new place? Or did you realize that the pile of jars we need you to suction open with your mouth is really building up?"

"Love you too." Santana rolled her eyes at his dopey grin. "And I'm here coz Finn and Rachel talked me into coming back to McKinley so I can rejoin New Directions. Turns out their short on members ever since you, Brittany and Mercedes ditched them."

Upon hearing his reason for being around, Santana immediately felt defensive. "Well that's _their_ side of it. Before us three left, it was turning into the Rachel and Blaine show, with Blinn sexual tension on the side. At least in the Troubletones, Britts, Wheezy and I get to shine and be the stars of our own show." Unless Santana was mistaken, she thought she saw Sam twitch at Mercedes being called Wheezy.

"Alright, alright. You had your reasons. It's cool." Seeing him respond so calmly to her argumentative tone reminded Santana of how he was such a laid back guy. Sam never picked any fight with her despite all the times she scolded him for his jokes, references and impressions.

"Why don't you two just shut up and make out already?" Coleman reminded them that he was still there.

Coach Beiste gave Coleman another rough shake before addressing Sam and Santana. "Look, as great as it is that you two can catch up again, I gotta take this guy to Figgins like a stubborn pig to a slaughterhouse." The jock's face grew noticeably pale.

Santana watched the relaxed expression on Sam's face harden into an angry one. It had always been a rare occurance to see the guy mad, but when he _was_, he _meant it_. "Coach Beiste's right. Principal Figgins should know _exactly_ what he did to you."

"I-I…" Santana looked from Sam to Coleman to Coach Beiste. "Y-You sure? Is that necessary?" It felt like a hassle, and this would be the second guy Santana sent to the principal's office. How much hell would they give her once they got back? That was assuming they were even allowed back. But after Karofsky came back to school despite everything going on between him and Kurt, Santana saw no reason to believe that any of these suspensions were permanent.

"Of course it is! He should get hell for it."

"This school would turn into some crazy chicken house if we don't enforce a bit of discipline." Beiste looked at the other students, still standing around. "And don't the rest of you got someplace to be?"

At this, the audience scattered.

As the hallway grew empty aside from the occasional passerby that gave them curious glances, Santana thought about how she didn't particularly feel comfortable with the idea of dragging this to Figgins's office. She'd had her fair share of lies to squirm out of trouble with Figgins before. What were the chances that she'd be believed?

Well there was Sam and Coach Beiste here to back her up and make sure some form of punishment is dealt. Santana reminded herself that even though maybe ninety nine percent of the school hated her, there were still a few people she could count on. Figgins suspended Rick Nelson, after all. And that was mostly thanks to Coach Beiste.

While Santana quietly thought about the idea, Sam took it upon himself to reassure her, "This is three peoples' words against one. We'll make sure Figgins gives him hell. I promise."

"Why? Why does it matter to you?" Santana had to ask. After how she just used him as a beard and unceremoniously dumped him for Karofsky, Sam had no reason to be nice to her. In fact, logically, Sam should _hate_ Santana. "I mean I get Coach Beiste wanting to do this. But you?"

Logic was always different when Sam used it though. His brows rose and his eyes widened at her question. "Why not?" At the suspicious look she gave him, Sam patted her shoulder, "You're like my bro! Or… sis…" He shrugged, "I don't really know what term I'm supposed to use. Whatever the lez version of a bro is, that's you to me, alright? And I look out for my bros and my… sisbros…?"

Even _he_ knew? Either Finn was right about how everyone already knew, or this was the effect of Salazar's ad. "You saw the commercial, or what?"

"I kinda figured it out sometime after we broke up. You and Britt were kinda obvious, y'know." Sam said. "But I'm cool with it."

"Santana, please. Can we get this thing done now?" Coach Beiste asked.

Santana hesitated. The thought of maybe hearing Coleman defend himself and come up with an excuse that Figgins could believe made her nervous. But Sam seemed to be trustworthy enough. At least for now, in this particular situation. And Coach Beiste seemed more than just willing to support Santana.

As much as she wished Brittany could be here, Santana had no idea where she was, neither did she know how to gently explain everything in a call or text. Better to get it done now with Sam and Coach Beiste, and then worry about telling Brittany later.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>With the exception of a couple of early birds, the classroom was empty. Brittany took the seat at the furthest corner and waited for Santana to arrive. In the meantime, Brittany tried to sort through the turmoil of emotions inside of her.<p>

On one hand, she was furious with them. _All of them_. But Quinn and Mercedes the most because Brittany thought they at least had a vague idea of Brittany's intelligence. On the other hand, she was starting to regret yelling at them all and letting her temper just explode. And of course she was hurt by the fact that they were all still convinced that she was slower than a cat riding a turtle riding a snail.

But overall, she felt _drained_.

Drained and exhausted and wishing she could curl up in bed with Santana and sleep for several years.

Though this probably wasn't the kind of tired that could be fixed with sleep, was it?

Brittany massaged her temples, hoping that would at least soothe her a little bit. Which it did, just barely.

Not for the first time, she wondered how things could spiral down so fast, turning everything inside out along the way. Brittany could barely remember what things were like before the whole Mash-Off debacle happened. It couldn't have been just two weeks ago, could it?

As people started coming into the room in small groups, Brittany remembered that she never got to tell Santana where she was for the whole lunch period. She debated with herself whether or not to send a text this late, then eventually decided to just wait and then explain everything out loud and hope Santana would be okay with it.

Well… she probably wouldn't be okay with the things their glee friends and Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schue implied about Brittany. Santana was very likely to get angry, actually. And confront them all and give them a piece of her mind. Also, Brittany suspected that Santana would wonder why they didn't talk to her directly.

The thought of making Santana feel even worse and just adding to the long and growing list of bad things she was going through… it made Brittany start doubting the necessity of telling Santana exactly what happened. Maybe they could discuss it at another time. Perhaps after Santana's overcome… _all of this_.

Eventually.

Brittany felt torn.

She hated hiding things from Santana. Until now, Brittany still felt bad about never bringing up the slap just because she didn't want Santana to confront Bennet and make things worse. And there was still the cellphone thing. Brittany wanted to, but still hadn't tried discussing with Santana the text from Mrs. Lopez. And now, there was _this_.

The sight of Mike, Quinn and Mercedes entering the room interrupted Brittany's train of thought. She watched as they hesitated at the door and exchanged guilty glances. Brittany had a feeling that they wanted to apologize, but right now, she didn't feel ready to forgive them.

A glare from her discouraged any ideas they might have had of talking to her, and instead they sat together at the opposite end of the room.

Santana still wasn't here.

By the time Mrs. Hagberg entered the room, Brittany was starting to get really worried. And when half an hour passed, her mind was already picturing all kinds of horrible scenarios where the Cheerios had a hand at causing Santana's absence.

After Brittany invaded their territory and told them all off last week, they must be _furious_ and out for revenge. A group of Cheerios with nearly unlimited power and influence granted to them by their popularity… there must be a lot they were capable of. Dangerous enemies.

Forty minutes after the start of the class, Brittany was just about to excuse herself and go search for Santana.

Until Santana came in through the door with _Sam_ next to her.

The shock shut off most of Brittany's brain for a moment, and she just watched and gaped as Santana waved goodbye to Sam before going to Mrs. Hagberg and surrendering a piece of paper.

Mrs. Hagberg read the paper then nodded and set it on her desk.

"What—where… was that _Sam_?" Brittany barely gave Santana time to sit next to her before asking the questions, "He's _here_? Since when? _Why_?"

"Yeah, he's been here since last week." Santana answered, "Can you believe that? And we never noticed!"

Brittany thought about it for a moment and realized it wasn't such a surprise that they never knew Sam was back until just now. With all the times Santana and Brittany spent dealing with Cheerios and the hockey jocks; hiding in the bathrooms; and just dealing with all the Troubletones and bullying and Mr. and Mrs. Lopez problems, they didn't have any time to hear the news or see Sam himself.

"So why's he back now?"

"New Directions needs members. Finchel got him to come back." Santana answered.

As selfish as it was to think it, Brittany was kind of comforted by the fact that New Directions was struggling to come up with members, too.

Brittany was just about to ask Santana why she arrived so late, but Mrs. Hagberg spoke before she got the chance. "Ms. Lopez, you may be excused for being late, but you're not excused from paying attention. Eyes and ears to the front. You too, Ms. Pierce."

* * *

><p>Santana only got the chance to tell Brittany that she had to talk to Figgins during lunch and that it wasn't anything to worry about and they could discuss it in the evening. And it was evening now, but Brittany was busy getting homework done.<p>

Despite how much she wanted for them to talk, Santana understood that she needed to give Brittany time to get some work done. The last thing she needed was to be the cause of Mr. and Mrs. Pierce's daughter flunking in class.

It was fine with Santana to give Brittany space, but the price she was paying for it was being trapped in thoughts of her parents and Coleman and the Cheerios… and all that had happened lately. Rory and Emily were watching TV in the living room, and Santana tried to join them but was too distracted to focus on what was happening on screen.

Instead of seeing Scooby and Shaggy stuffing food into their mouths, Santana kept seeing Josh Coleman's face lunging for her mouth. The image was sometimes replaced by the loveless faces of her parents. Spiteful exclamations of how filthy and sinful she was kept throwing themselves against her brain, too. They kept trying to convince her that they were right.

To drive them back, Santana played and replaced Brittany's voice saying that it was normal. That there was nothing wrong with it. That what they had with each other was pure. It was love transcending the boundaries created by unnecessary labels. _Magical_.

Somewhere in the sea of thoughts and voices and images crashing over Santana, a chronological timeline of the recent events was breaking through the surface. Piece by piece, Santana searched for the start of it all. The root cause.

Along the way, she considered the other events could have happened. The alternate universes that may have come to be if different choices were made, different paths taken. They were dead now and had no chances of being born, but Santana visited their graves anyway.

Assuming Santana was the one who told her parents and came out in her own time, they probably would have responded in the same way.

But at least it could have been at a time when Santana was more financially independent. Or at least had some sort of a back-up plan all thought out, money saved up, an emergency place to go to or whatever. It was something she and Brittany had been gradually preparing themselves for, building up confidence. It was something Santana was supposed to have done when she was ready and with a carefully crafted Plan B. And C and D.

Finn took that way from her. He released the information to everyone in the hallway and didn't give Santana any time to react appropriately to the situation or prepare for it.

It all started with _him_.

It began in that hallway. It began when he opened his mouth.

Revisiting the memory, Santana saw him tower over her. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set. The hand gripping the strap of his backpack was a fist clenched so tightly, it may not be far-fetched to assume he was imagining that the strap was Santana's throat. As she turned her back on him and began to walk away, Finn struck her with the most deadly weapon at his disposal, aiming for her weakest, most carefully guarded point.

And why did he do it in the first place?

Santana asked herself the question often enough, and she knew the answer.

Everything she did and said… the more she thought about it, the more Santana came to admit to herself that it was _all_ out of line. Sure, Finn was a crappy singer, and it was true that he represented New Directions, and there was no doubt in Santana's mind that New Directions never really liked her and easily accepted Rory as the replacement.

Those were all truths, but it wasn't true that Santana taking her anger and frustration out on Finn was appropriate. There was a fine line between being snarky awesome, and being needlessly, brutally cruel. The words she kept firing at Finn nonstop, they were way, _way_ beyond that line. She was being her selfish bitch self. She was _always_ being her selfish bitch self.

"Santana, are you alright?" Mrs. Pierce interrupted Santana's train of thought.

Looking up from the kitchen table she'd been staring at for the past however-long-it-had-been, Santana stumbled over what to say. "S-sure! I'm great!"

Mrs. Pierce looked like she didn't believe a word and wanted to say something, but seemed to decide against it and instead took some milk from the fridge and drank from the carton.

"Okay, fine. Not really." Santana admitted.

Not looking the last bit surprised, Mrs. Pierce sat down across Santana. "What's on your mind?" She glanced through the archway to the living room, where Rory and Emily were still busy with their eyes glued to the tv. "Do you want me to send them upstairs to watch in my room instead?"

Santana glanced their way, thought about it for a moment. It would make her feel more comfortable if the two weren't so near, within hearing distance. And they would probably enjoy themselves more in Mr. and Mrs. Pierce's room. Maybe even jump on the bed and then act like they weren't the moment someone comes into the room.

"Nah, it's fine." Santana didn't want to make a big deal about it though. They were fine where they were, not paying any attention to her anyway.

Mrs. Pierce nodded and didn't push it. She waited quietly, letting Santana have the time to gather her thoughts and start speaking at her own pace. And Santana found herself appreciating Mrs. Pierce even more for it. She couldn't help bitterly wishing her own mother could have been at least half this understanding.

"I've been thinking…" Santana started, not sure how Mrs. Pierce was going to take this. "And I dunno, it might sound weird to you… but… I feel like this is my fault. The stuff that've been happening."

Instead of adamantly saying that it wasn't, Mrs. Pierce waited for Santana to finish before saying her piece. And what she said made it seem like she could read Santana's mind, which was something Santana would probably never get used to. "I don't think it is. I don't believe you caused the…" Mrs. Pierce hesitated at the mention of it, "the outing. Or the ad, or your parents' reactions."

"And the Cheerios' reactions?"

"Though neither you nor Brittany have specifically told me of all the incidents that have happened with the Cheerios, I think it still stands that their responses aren't your fault either."

When they talked about it at Breadstix, Brittany failed to really convince Santana. She successfully distracted Santana and improved her mood, but didn't quite change her mind. Mrs. Pierce wasn't very convincing either.

"But I _pushed_ him." Santana insisted, still remembering how foul she was to Finn for _days_. If anyone ever spoke to _Santana_ like that, she would have beaten the hell out of them and locked them in a dumpster. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like her current situation was the universe bringing justice to a bitch. "I was saying the _worst_ things to Finn and he _snapped_."

"Have you tried talking to him since then?" Mrs. Pierce asked this instead of constantly (and futilely) trying to change Santana's mind and create an argument.

Her automatic response was going to be a no, until Santana remembered that they _did_ sort of talk about it last week. Finn revealed himself to be the guy that warned Coach Beiste when Rick was getting violent. And he tried to ask Santana how she was. Finn tried to express that he wanted things to get better for her. Then when Santana reacted to him with raised hackles, Finn called her out on her bad behavior before the outing.

Given, Finn was patronizing and proud and infuriating with his tone and word choices, Finn still _was_, in his own way, attempting to apologize. The '_I hope things work ou_t' thing he said was probably the closest that Santana was ever going to get to an apology from Finn Hudson.

"Sort of…" Santana finally remembered to answer the question out loud. "It was more of a… fight than a talk. But in the end… I think he was trying to apologize. He was too fu—freaking proud to really apologize, but he _tried_."

Mrs. Pierce didn't seem at all bothered by how close Santana came to swearing. "Do you forgive him?"

That was another question that Santana had to think about for a while. There was still a great deal of anger she felt whenever she thought of that moment in the hallway when he blurted out her deepest secret and walked away without suffering any consequences. And Santana would probably always hate his proud leading man mentality.

But she could also remember how Kurt stood up to him and reprimanded him—and it didn't sound like that was for the first time. Finn _was_ facing consequences. At the very least, in the form of lectures from Kurt.

"I still hate Finn, and I still sort of blame him for everything." She probably blamed Finn almost as much as herself right now. It was a conflicting, confusing jumble of thought and emotion in her head. "But I… Lately, I just keep thinking about how I pushed him to say what he did. Is that weird?"

"I think it goes to show that you're capable of looking at the situation from perspectives other than your own. Which is more than I can say about most of your classmates. Excluding Brittany of course." At this Mrs. Pierce rolled her eyes and smiled. "_She's_ always thinking about your perspective. And other peoples'. But especially yours."

The thought made Santana smile because it was true and it was one of the things she loved most about Brittany. She managed to think about how everyone else might feel about a situation. And as much as she could, Brittany would respond in however she felt was the best or the most right way.

If only Santana could be that considerate.

Wait, did Mrs. Pierce just indirectly call Santana mature?

Or was Santana hearing it wrong?

"I'd suggest—and this is just a suggestion—you try talking to Finn again. In your own time, when you're ready."

The idea of it still didn't sound like a good one. Santana guessed that it was probably because she wasn't quite ready to let go of her anger and stop blaming him. Not just yet.

Maybe Santana _should_ try talking to Ms. Pillsbury.

* * *

><p>After spending two hours on her physics homework, Brittany's brain felt fried. And as she lay with Santana, a big part of Brittany just wanted to go to sleep. Sleep and rest after the longest, most tiring and draining day ever.<p>

But there was part of Brittany that didn't want to sleep yet. _Couldn't_ sleep yet, actually. There was still too much on her mind, still too many emotions going through her, and too many things she hadn't told Santana yet. Brittany still felt like her reasons for hiding some of the recent things from Santana were justifiable. Though that still didn't make it feel right at all.

"Santana?"

From her position wrapped in Brittany's arms, Santana looked up, "Yeah, Britts?"

This close, awake and alert instead of sleeping and relaxed, Santana looked different. Not just from the black eye because that was almost gone now. But it was something else. A sort of… tired look to her. Her eyes looked sunken, and her cheeks were a lot less full than Brittany remembered. The jaw was more pronounced now. It was like Santana had gotten a whole lot older in such a short time.

And she looked just... exhausted and drained.

It shouldn't be surprising, considering everything that's been going on.

Yet it reignited the anger Brittany felt towards all the people that did this.

Mr. and Mrs. Lopez… Reggie Salazar… Finn Hudson… Bethany Bennet… Susan Carter… Rick Nelson… _Josh Coleman_. They were the reason why Santana was being forced to deal with things that she wasn't supposed to be dealing with. At this time, Santana was supposed to be safe and sound at home, grinning under the covers and texting sweet "Good night, I love you" messages to her girlfriend after a long afternoon of procrastinating homework.

"How are you?" Brittany knew Santana still wasn't the most open person when it came to talking about feelings, but she had gotten a lot more open last week. Until the run-in with Mr. Lopez. After that, Santana had sort of started closing up again. Keeping her emotions to herself and pretending she didn't have any problem with anything.

It was costing her. Brittany could see it in those tired eyes.

"I dunno." Santana said, "Your mom and I talked earlier, while you were busy with Physics."

This, Brittany didn't know about. "Oh?" Maybe she had been wrong about Santana closing up again. If she talked to Mom today, it could mean that Santana was willing to start talking again and Brittany's timing was spot on.

"Yeah. She thinks I should talk to Finn when I'm… like… ready to face him."

The thought of Finn, the idea of Santana talking to him- it was fanning the flames. "_Why_?" Brittany asked, with a tone that was a little more aggressive than intended. Finn Hudson didn't deserve to be anywhere near Santana, didn't deserve to be inhaling air within the same space as Santana. Every recent hardship in Santana's life now was because of Finn Hudson and his inappropriate mouth and underused brain.

By the way Santana's eyebrows rose, Brittany knew that her tone didn't go unnoticed. It caused guilt to battle anger for dominance inside Brittany's head. "I pushed him, Britt. I mean it's not like _I_ haven't said stuff I later regretted everytime I get into Snixx mode."

"But that doesn't mean you deserve to have all… _all of this_ happening to you." Without realizing it, Brittany had tightened her hold on Santana. "You don't deserve it, San. This isn't how it was supposed to be!" The sight of the alarmed expression on Santana's face, and the way she tensed made Brittany relax her grip and pull away. It was Finn who deserved to face all the pain and distress because of what he did to Santana. He deserved to suffer consequences because_ it all started with him._

Santana's alarm slowly transitioned into worry. She placed one of her hands on Brittany's cheek. There was something soothing about the feel of Santana's smooth and gentle palm. It was a familiar touch that was always warming. Anger still dominated Brittany's thoughts, but this helped her cool off a little. She leaned into the Santana's hand, wishing it could send away all their problems and take them back to the time when everything was different and simpler and happier..

"Britt… are _you_ okay?"

Was she?

This brewing anger wasn't normal for Brittany. There was a time when she'd do everything possible to avoid letting her temper rise because she didn't like getting mad at people. But these days… it was ever-present. It was getting stronger and stronger. It was an erupting volcato, an exploding bomb in the choir room today. She actually _yelled_ at all her friends.

_Were_ they even her friends?

The gentle stroking of Santana's thumb against Brittany's cheek brought her back to the present. "Britt-Britt?"

"I keep wishing you didn't have to go through all this." Brittany finally answered, at first avoiding Santana's gaze, and then eventually gaining the strength to meet her eyes. "I keep wishing you could just be happy and safe instead of stuck having to be against evil dragons and angry lions at every page. No, every _paragraph_."

"Hey, I can manage." Santana just barely added a whispered, "Sort of." She continued at a more audible volume after. "Besides, I have my Princess to help me fight them off. Or are you a knight? No, you're my Bicorn, and I'm the Unicorn Princess. Right?"

The playful tone Santana took on amused Brittany, and when Santana began toying with Brittany's hair, she started to laugh. "Yeah, I'm your Bicorn knight and you're the pretty pink Unicorn Princess."

"Do I have to be pink? Can't I be a badass color like red?"

"As long as I get to be baby blue with green and pink polka dots."

"Deal." Santana grinned. "What's a Bicorn look like, anyway?"

Brittany propped herself up with one elbow, "Exactly like how I described."

Santana's hand left Brittany's cheek, glided over to one of her hands. "Sounds like they look really awesome then."

For a moment, Brittany stayed that way, watching Santana while she held Brittany's hand. Their hands always blended into each other seamlessly, and the contrasting colors of their skin seemed to represent the differences in their personalities and how those difference only made them even better for each other. They complimented each other perfectly. They matched.

At least for now, they both managed to make each other feel better.

Should she just leave it be and let the atmosphere last? It was nice now. They were both relatively okay at this moment. This was something better off preserved and savored while they still could. Before they wound up suffering from yet another awful experience.

One that if either of them it experienced alone, they may not even share it with other.

This thought was what helped Brittany decide it was time to start being honest. The list of things they weren't telling each other was growing longer and longer. Better to start sharing with each other now than allowing it build up unattended and suddenly explode when they least expected it.

Noticing her change in mood, Santana frowned. "What's up?"

"San…" Brittany inhaled, bracing herself, then let the air out slowly while she collected her thoughts and tried to sort out which were the right words to use, and which was the right place to start. Eventually, she decided on the most recent event. "I got a text from Sam…"

"Was it about…"

"That sophomore jock." The rage and repulsion Brittany felt when she first got the text came swarming back to her, hitting her with a collision so powerful, she had to pause to catch her breath. "Yeah."

Santana sat up, and Brittany did the same. "Look, Britt. I _was_ gonna tell you about it. I couldn't bring it up in the middle of class coz Mrs. Hagberg was watching us so closely. And then after that… well y'know this and that came up, and I figured I could tell you later at night, when we're alone.

"Like now?" Brittany didn't feel that bothered by Santana not bringing up the topic herself any sooner. She knew well enough what that was like. But she was bothered by how Josh Coleman had the nerve to actually do what he did. The thought of him forcing himself upon Santana made Brittany's skin crawl with disgust and her stomach twist into knots. And of course it was infuriating, too.

The idea of punching, kicking or throttling Josh Coleman gave Brittany a twisted sense of pleasure. A part of here really wanted to do that and make him truly regret ever laying an eye on Santana.

"Yeah… I just didn't know how I was gonna bring it up. I mean it's not like it's easy to say, 'Yo Britts, Coleman made out with me in the hallway today. It was total mouth rape. How was your day?'" Santana raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself though."

"You got him suspended, right? That was dealt with? His horn was taken away and he was banished from the clouds?"

"He never had a horn in the first place." Santana answered. "But yeah. Sam and Coach Beiste made sure Figgins got things done fast."

Thank the high heavens and Kurt's dwarf on the moon for Sam and Coach Beiste having the intiative to intervene and take action. It would have been impossible for Brittany to stay calm in a situation like that. If she had been there, she didn't know what she would have done. Hell, she _should_ have been there. Been by Santana's side instead of arguing with gleemates or sulking in classrooms.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Hey, it's fine." Santana said, "Don't worry about it, okay? You didn't know where I was, I didn't know where you were… it's cool." It didn't _sound_ cool. Santana was more bothered by what happened than she was letting on.

"About that…" Brittany thought about discussing what happened in the choir room. Thought about how to start, how to tell Santana that the others seemed relatively concerned, but they were convinced that Brittany couldn't understand what was going on. It turned into such a huge mess and she didn't know where to begin. "Santana, there's some stuff that I haven't told you about yet."

"Is this about what happened to you last week?" Santana asked when Brittany took too long of a pause hesitating and trying to figure out where to start. "You looked really bugged when you took Rory and me home that day."

"I… that." Well that was another thing Brittany didn't get to tell Santana about yet. And even though there wasn't any Cheerios incident since then, Brittany wasn't ready to trust the coincidence yet. It might just be nothing more than that. For all she knew, the Cheerios could be planning something else. Another attack that would make Santana feel like a horrible alien being with nowhere she belonged.

See! There! Brittany caught her own thoughts turning to such pessimistic roads. Pessimistic and suspicious. Since when was she like this? Certainly not before the start of the school year, that was for sure. Giving people the benefit of a doubt was becoming almost impossible.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Santana softened her tone, as if to show that she would try her best to be calm and not get mad if Brittany told her. "You've been…" Santana stopped, looked away, as if the blue wallpaper would help her come up with the right words. Brittany used the time to also look for the best way to explain what happened.

Santana beat her to it though. She turned to face Brittany and said, "I think you've started having nightmares, too. Since that day." It genuinely shocked Brittany to find out that Santana noticed. "Like sometimes when I just lie awake next to you coz I don't wanna go to sleep yet… I hear you. And I feel you moving around."

Was Brittany that obvious?

"Yeah, I've been having nightmares since then." Brittany confirmed, starting with the easiest path that Santana helped her find. "It started because of something that happened between me and the Cheerios."

The sudden tension in Santana's face and shoulders was obvious to Brittany, and she watched Santana put in the effort to relax and say, "What'd they do?"

"Well… basically…" Brittany used the best summary she could think of, "I told them off for being such unicorn-haters. I think some of them are starting to see little sparks of magic." Upon realizing that the magic-converted summary might mislead Santana, Brittany hastily added, "But I talked to them in Muggle terms of course! I used as little of the rainbow and Lord Tubbington talk as I could."

Successfully remaining calm, Santana said, "But…?"

"But Bennet and Susan and some of the others came in and tried to shut off the magic." Brittany left it at that. For now at least. She watched Santana's hands clench into tight fists. It stretched out the bruises and four little cuts on her hands.

"Did they… do anything to you?" No longer calm, Santana's voice was tight as she forced herself to keep it even.

Brittany hesitated.

"Britt?"

"Bennet kind of… sort of… slapped me."

"She _what_?" Santana just barely managed to lower her voice in time, the second word sounding more like a croak than the scream it almost could have been.

Brittany avoided Santana's darkening eyes.

"She _slapped_ you?" Now, the words were hissed out, laced with venom. Before Brittany could say or do anything to defuse the situation, Santana had leaped out of the bed and grabbed the nearest item- outdated Reader's Digest magazines Brittany had been meaning to throw out eventually. "I'm going _all_ _fucking Lima Heights_ on that bitch." Santana had the magazine rolled up and was brandishing it. "She is gonna damn well regret _daring_ to hurt you."

"Santana!" Brittany rushed after Santana and grabbed hold of her shoulders, but she didn't seem to notice. Santana forcefully twisted the doorknob and swung the door open.

"She's gonna _pay_, Britt." Santana went on, beginning to make her way down the hall, and Brittany was too overcome by shock to sufficiently use her strength to hold Santana back. "I'm gonna find a way to make sure she completely regrets ever touching you. Her goddamn ass is going to hell."

The alarm bells in Brittany's head were ringing, gradually snapping her out of the stunned state of surprise. "Santana, _no_!"

"It's one thing to fuck with me. It's another thing entirely to mess with _you_, Britt." Santana went on, already a few steps away from the top of the stairs. "We're not gonna take their shit sitting down anymore. We're fucking fighting back. _All_ Lime Heights!"

Brittany finally had the sense to take her hands off Santana's shoulders and instead wrapped them around her waist. "Santana, please calm down!"

Trying to struggle out of Brittany's grasp, Santana sounded anything but calm. "No, Brittany! This is the last fucking straw! Let me go!"

Lifting Santana off her feet, Brittany carried her back to the room. "San, listen to yourself! Do you really think that's the best idea?"

For a while, Santana just squirmed and tried to get out of Brittany's grasp, but she maintained her grip. Loose enough that it wouldn't hurt or suffocate Santana, but tight enough that she couldn't wriggle out. "She's gotta pay for what she did to you! They've all gotta pay for treating you like shit. I won't let them do that to you!"

Doing her best not to panic because that would only make the situation worse, Brittany just held on and waited for Santana's struggles to gradually subside.

After what felt like hours because Brittany's muscles were begging and screaming for a break, Santana stopped and went limp. "You can put me down now."

"You won't gonna go off and start a Cheeriopocalypse?"

Santana shook her head. "No. I'm still pissed and I still think she should burn in hell, but I'm not gonna go and bring her there myself."

"Okay." Trusting Santana's word, Brittany let her go and watched, ready to act again the moment Santana tried to go rushing back out. Instead, she sat down at the edge of the bed, put her elbows against her thighs and her forehead in her palms. Brittany couldn't help noticing the scraped knee had yet to fully heal, and the vigorous activity might mean that Mom should probably take a look at it again in the morning. The shallow parts at the edges looked fine, but the deeper portions in the middle looked a little damp.

"I hate that I wasn't there to defend you." Santana groaned into her hands. "I hate that Bleachhead actually did that to you."

"I hate what Rick did to you that day and I just watched." Those were the first words that came out of Brittany's mouth instead of the words of comfort she was supposed to be giving. "I hate what Coleman did to you and I hate how _I_ wasn't there to defend _you_."

She heard Santana sigh against her palms. "What's happening to us, Britt?" Santana lowered her hands and looked up at Brittany. "I feel… _different_." Brittany could understand that feeling. Understand it completely. "_We're_ different."

Brittany nodded but didn't say anything. What _could_ she say?"

"I mean… I still love you. You still love me. I don't think that's ever gonna change." Brittany didn't need to add to the claim that they were different. Santana seemed ready to elaborate on it on her own just fine. "You still think more before getting mad than I do. You're still more chill than I am." Was she? Brittany wasn't so sure anymore. She still remembered how easily she lost patience in the choir room today. And there was still her desire to physically attack Josh Coleman, no matter how wrong it felt.

"But I'm… I dunno. I'm not really sure how I've gotten different. I just feel like I _am_. But you…" Santana's eyes locked on Brittany, "You're a lot gutsier now. You stood up to Jewfro and Finn and Coleman. You even took on the Cheerios on your own!"

"Is that bad?" Her voice came out as such an uncertain squeak, Brittany couldn't believe it came out of her own mouth. But knowing that Santana was aware of Brittany's changes, maybe even aware of how major the anger issue was becoming… it scared Brittany. What if Santana would begin to see Brittany differently? Would she begin to feel differently, too?

"No." Santana answered. "It's not bad. It's just… It's _different_." Her hands were tight fists again. "It makes me hate them all for forcing these changes to happen to you. You're supposed to be happy and carefree and safe with the rainbows. Instead you're dealing with… with all this stuff."

_And you're supposed to be the Head Cheerio and HBIC of the school, safely at home, loved by your parents and sleeping in the place where you grew up. Supposed to be enjoying your senior year in high school with supportive parents willing to show up at your graduation and help you get to your college._ Brittany wanted to say it, but couldn't, afraid of rubbing in Santana's face all the things she'd lost.

Instead of living how she was supposed to be living, Santana was hurt and afraid and angry. Brittany found herself wondering if Santana would have actually broken into Bennet's house and physically attacked her if Brittany hadn't been around to calm her down.

It got her thinking about Santana and her aggression. Brittany could always find ways to overlook and excuse it, but with the glee peoples' words still on her mind, and Santana's most recent episode… Brittany wasn't sure anymore what to think.

Could it possibly be because of Mr. Lopez? Did Santana have her anger issues because of the way Mr. Lopez behaved?

If a guy like him could willingly hurt his daughter at a time when she was so clearly emotionally vulnerable, then what else could he be capable of? Brittany shuddered to think about it. But she felt like she had to know.

If being exposed to Bennet's quick hands and being made aware of the power of Mr. Lopez's fists were beginning to change Brittany and affect the way she perceived the world, what could a childhood in the Lopez house with _those people_ do to a person?

Maybe Mr. Lopez could very well be the reason why Santana was the way she was when it came to anger and violence.

"Santana?"

Santana brushed loose strands of hair out of her face and looked at Brittany. Her face… her eyes looked even more tired now. Tired from… everything. Weighed down by the heavy burden of problem afted problem. It was haunting to look at. "Yeah?"

"That day I hurt my hand…" Brittany spoke cautiously, afraid of spooking Santana into suddenly closing up and dropping the subject. They've just started being open with each other again, Brittany didn't want to destroy all this progress. "I came so close to hitting Finn. To _hurting_ him."

The intensity of her anger in that moment… Brittany would never forget it. It was her first time to feel that strongly. Then it just got worse and worse after that.

Was it the same for Santana? Did she start carrying it early in her childhood, and it just grew and grew until Santana became the _punch first; think later_ kind of person she was now? Brittany rarely got angry, and she had absolutely no idea how she would have been able to stand a lifetime of bottled up anger.

She remembered the day Santana confessed her feelings to Brittany. Part of the confession included Santana admitting that she had a lot of anger stemming out of fear, the fear of acknowledging her feelings and the consequences.

What else was Santana dealing with or afraid of, for her to have been an angry person for so long?

"He woulda deserved it." Santana said, then seemed to stop herself. "Well actually I really dunno anymore."

"But Santana, I couldn't. I _couldn't_ hit him." Brittany couldn't hit Finn. But Bennet could hit Brittany. Santana could hit Quinn and Finn and Lauren and Mercedes. Finn could hit Puck and Sam. Mr. Lopez could hit Santana.

Santana had her eyes on Brittany, and seemed to be trying to figure out where this conversation was heading. "That's just fine, Britt. I know you think violence is wrong."

"Do _you_?"

Suddenly looking uncomfortable, Santana's answer came out broken and uncertain. "Well… er… I think that usually, yeah, it's wrong. But occasionally necessary." Then in a less hesitant voice, she asked, "Why are you asking? Where're you going with this, Britt?"

"I just…" Brittany tried to hold them back, but the words just came tumbling out of her mouth, "I can't believe there are people who can just… just inflict pain on another when they don't need to. When they _shouldn't_." Given, if Brittany ever had the chance to face Coleman and actually had it in her to strike him, it should be justified because it was being done for Santana. But what Mr. Lopez did? That simply couldn't be something that was okay or justifiable in any way.

Flashes of last night's nightmare came up in Brittany's head.

Santana just shrugged. "I guess that's just the way it is." Though she tried to mask it, Brittany could see that Santana was really uneasy.

Regardless of how much Brittany _did_ agree that the issue they talked about in the choir room was a serious one and should be discussed again, she was thinking that maybe it would be best if she just stopped here. Maybe it would be best to just change the topic. The people in the choir room didn't know how much this could upset Santana. They didn't know what Santana was like anywhere near as much as Brittany did.

"Britt, I know it bugs you, and I'm sorry." Santana said after several minutes of both of them being quiet and trapped in their thoughts. "Look, I'll try, okay? I mean… already, I _am_ trying to stay out of trouble and get into fights less often. But if it's got to do with you and avenging or defending you… I don't think I can make any promises."

Wait, she thought that Brittany was fussed about _Santana's_ behavior? That wasn't it! Brittany could always find a way to understand Santana's reasons! Without thinking, Brittany corrected Santana. "No, San, I'm talking about your dad! This is about how he-"

"_No_." Santana said the one word forcefully, standing up as she did so. "Brittany. Stop."

"San, how could he do that to you?" Brittany couldn't stop herself now. She wanted so desperately to understand it. Understand how a person could be so okay with purposely inflicting harm on their own daughter. "Why are we letting him get away with it?"

Santana was using her strained voice again, trying to stay calm but getting really close to losing her cool. "It's _not_ a big deal, okay?"

"But it _is_ a big deal!"

"I told you to drop it!" Santana raised her voice and directed a glare at Brittany that scared her into taking a step back.

"Why are you yelling at me?"

Rubbing her temples, Santana turned away from Brittany and took several deep, long breaths, forcing herself to calm down. "Sorry." Santana turned back to face Brittany. "I'm sorry. I just _don't_ wanna talk about it, okay?"

Brittany should have stopped. She _really_ should have stopped. But for some reason, she couldn't keep herself from saying, "But why would he-"

"Maybe that's just the way he is, okay?" Santana snapped again, "It's not like that was the first time his hand was faster than his mouth."

This only confirmed the fear that Brittany could hardly even dare to acknowledge. "_It happened before_?" Was it something that happened often? For what reasons? Brittany remembered that time she was supposed to pay a surprise visit to the Lopez house and turned back when she heard Mr. Lopez yelling. Was something bad happening that time?

And Brittany just walked away from it.

The wave of nausea would've knocked Brittany off her feet if she hadn't put a hand against the wall to support herself.

"I—it…" Santana ran her fingers through her hair and walked to the dresser, where her own tense, agitated face looked back at her. "Fine!" She shouted again before looking at Brittany and softening her voice. "Three or four times maybe. But-but it was never _this_ bad before."

"San…" Swallowing the dizziness, Brittany slowly made her way to Santana, hoping to give her a hug and remind her that here in this house, among these people who really cared, she was safe, in a good place where no one would ever hurt her.

"And I guess the only difference is that this time, I didn't see it coming. And I dunno, this time he was completely sober. I'm not sure about the other times."

"But… He…" Brittany couldn't even begin to imagine what that must be like. Her own father was always gentle, and when he got angry, it was a quiet, disappointed kind of anger. Never explosive. Her mother was like that, too. It was rare for enraged yells to ever go around in this house. "San… why didn't you ever tell me?"

Santana didn't react when Brittany stepped closer to her. Brittany paused, not sure if it was the right time or not for them to hug. "Dammit, I didn't wanna make a thing out of it, okay? And besides, I was asking for it." How could Santana _deserve_ that? "I was talkin' smack. Another time, I failed a test."

"That's no reason to… to do that." Brittany spoke in a horrified whisper. Santana would never deserve to be hurt.

"I keep telling you. It's just the way some people are." Santana tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I mean c'mon. You've seen _me_ in Snixx mode. I'm like that sometimes."

The implication that Santana was anything like that was even more horrifying to Brittany. "You're _nothing_ like that!"

Suddenly, Santana's tone and expression hardened again. "You were fucking there when I had that smackdown with Quinn! And were you sleeping when Rick and I were fighting last week? You _do_ understand that those were fights and that was violence, right?"

Brittany shook her head, as if the action would rid her of these implications. Santana was _not_ a bad person. She was a great person! She was good! "That was different! You-you had your reasons! Stop comparing yourself to _him_!" Santana was _good_ and they were all _bad_. Brittany normally didn't like to think of things as clearcut black and white, but this was a case where she refused to see any gray.

"_He_ had his reasons too, Britt." Santana shot back. "I'm one hell of a violent bitch, what with all the fights _I've_ gotten into. But you? _You_." The way Santana pointed at Brittany was so sudden that she felt her heart skip a beat. "You had every damn reason to hit Finn, but you _didn't_. So I guess you're fucking perfect and I'm like Dad and too fucking violent for you."

"Wh- San, stop saying you're like him!" Brittany couldn't handle this. Santana wasn't making any sense. "Stop saying you're the same because you're not!"

"_Why not_?" Santana practically screamed it out so loudly, Brittany wondered if anyone would come in at any minute, awakened by all the shouting.

"_Because you could never hit me!"_ Brittany didn't realize that she screamed too.

"I-" Santana stopped. "So?"

More aware of her volume now, Brittany said, "You wouldn't hit someone you love. Right?"

Santana was still worked up. "Yeah, but—it—he—_Screw this_!" Waving her arms in the air with a combination of exasparation and anger, Santana made her way back to the door. "To hell with it all!"

"Where are you going?" Brittany followed Santana to the doorway.

"Couch!" Throwing the answer over her shoulder, Santana walked down the hallway, to the stairs.

"Santana!" Brittany went after her, but froze at the glare Santana shot her.

"Just- just fucking drop it, Britt! You don't know shit about this. Quit pretending you get it!"

Feeling torn between confusion and concern and sudden anger, Brittany responded with a raised voice, too. "I _want_ to get it! That's why I'm _asking_!"

"Well stop asking then!" Santana took several large steps, closing the distance between them and pressing her face close to Brittany's. "I told you I didn't fucking wanna talk about it, and what'd you do? You fucking talked to me about it. Is your hearing screwed up or something? It's none of your goddamn fucking business!"

The way Santana was behaving, screaming loud enough for her voice to echo, moving her arms around and seeming larger, face twisted into an expression of rage… it scared Brittany as much as it frustrated her. Brittany was angry too, but she wasn't the one that started yelling at Santana.

"It _is_ my damn business because I freaking care about you." Brittany shot back, feeling too worked up to have time to feel horrified by the way _she_ was talking and behaving. "And don't you talk to me like that!"

"I'll talk however I damn well please!" Santana shot back, even more worked up than Brittany was. "And if you fucking cared so much about me, you'd hear me out when I say I don't wanna discuss that shit with you. You'd have drop the damn subject just like I'm trying so fucking hard right now not to insult your intelligence. So right now, _give me some fucking space before I say something even worse."_

At this, Brittany had to pause. She was pressuring Santana. This whole converation was a lot of pushing Santana into talking about something she so obviously didn't want to talk about. That made Brittany no better than Finn, didn't it?

But Santana was being downright cruel with the tone she was employing and the words she choosing. Why was she talking to Brittany that way when all Brittany was trying to do was _understand_? And the almost-jibes at Brittany's intelligence hurt like a bunch of pins piercing her chest continiously.

Confusion just added itself to the mixed mess of burning negative emotions. Confusion because she really just couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand Mr. Lopez's heartlessness. Santana's indifference, even acceptance of it. There was no sense in any of it. Not to Brittany anyway.

After the long silence between them and Brittany's lack of a response, Santana turned her back on Brittany and walked down the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>So... in the Coleman incident, I think it's important that Sam was the one that came to help Santana instead of Brittany (as much as we ALL wanted it to be her) because at this point, Brittany and Santana are both in a constant state of on-off suspicion of everyone. It's important for them to maintain friendships outside of each other, and to do that, they have to be convinced that there ARE people who're there for them, and action speaks louder than words. Hence Sam's physically being there for them. Mercedes has been more actively supportive than Quinn, though after the choir room incident, Brittany's going to be really doubtful and frustrated with her now.

At least with Sam's actions, they can remember that hey, Sam's got our back even if he's in New Directions. It's a reminder that it's not just the two of them against the world. And Coach Beiste _is_ a teacher that they actually can trust, coz she actually _did_ help them out. Twice now.

Quinn on the other hand, now that things are starting to fall into place for her, she'll have more room in her head now to worry about Brittana, and she's going to actually try to help them more actively now. It's one thing to say and think that she'll be a better friend, but she has yet to actually do much. So we'll see where she takes her storyline from now on, eh?

Oh, and yes. I _was_ planning on bringing Sam in for ages, and he WAS supposed to be introduced much earlier (I had a really vague throwaway line in the earlier chapters of Quinn seeing him enter her classroom). But this and that happened, and in the end, this was the earliest entrance he could get. And I hope the Mercedes sub _sub_ plot is starting to click into place now.


	16. Chapter 16

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Another hard chapter to write, and I did another questionable thing in a particular scene, which I'll explain and justify in the footnote.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I could make you normal. Sin! Filth! We don't want you perving us in the locker room. It's gross. Disgusting! I could make you normal. Freaks! You don't belong here. She's not worth it. You don't mean anything. I'm the right man to do it. Coward. Disgrace! That was really you? Lesbian student. Coward.<em>

Santana wished she could claw her ears out just so the words that kept surrounding her and closing in on her would just _stop_. She tried running, but wherever she turned, the words were never far, never getting any more distant. Whichever direction she went, they only got closer and closer, louder and louder. Her ears were pounding, her head felt like it was splitting open.

"You really think that a disgrace such as this is _okay_?"

Gasping in surprise, Santana spun around to see that her father had materialized behind her. The sight of him shortened her breath and weakened her knees. _Not again._

"How selfish of you to prefer sin and filth and _that girl_ over your own parents and god." Next to Mr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez appeared, and Santana saw the disapproval on her face.

"It's not like that!" Santana tried to explain, even if she knew it was hopeless. They weren't going to change their stand anymore than she could change hers. If only she could get out of here. Get out of this place and be back in Brittany's room. Where it was safe. "Please try to understand that-"

Before she could even finish the sentence, she got another close up shot of her father's wedding ring. The impact sent pain rushing through her eye and face, and the momentum brought her several feet up in the air before the eventual agonizing collision with the ground.

Recognizing the tiled kitchen floor, Santana prayed it would change into the soft texture of Brittany's carpet. Or anything else. Grass, concrete, sand, gravel, rocks, _thorns_. Anywhere but here. _Anywhere_ was better than _here_.

As the two people closed in on her, Santana tried to crawl backwards and away from them. She made it several paces before bumping into something.

"Yo, Mr. and Mrs. L! I'm Josh Coleman and your daughter just needs the right guy to straighter her out and I'm just the man to do it."

_Shit_.

Not him. Santana tried to move away, but he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet, roughtly turning her around to face him. "Ready to be normal?"

"Go to hell!" With her free hand, Santana swung and delivered a punch to the side of his face, causing him to release her. Coleman staggered back, and Santana didn't wait around to watch him recover. She turned away from them to run, only to crash into Rick "The Stick" Nelson.

_Fuck_.

"You're gonna pay for getting me suspended, bitch." Rick had one of his hockey sticks in his hands, and didn't give her any time to avoid his first swing. It caught her right in the ribcage, sending her straight into her father's arms.

Most of the other girls Santana knew would feel safe when their father held them. Right now, Santana felt anything but safe. The hate and repulsion made his eyes look dark and cold and empty. "You will regret the choice you made, Santana."

The punch from her father threw her into Coleman, who caught her wrists. "You're _smokin'_ hot, y'know that?"

Tensing, Santana prepared herself for the vile taste of his invasive kiss, but instead he spun her around to face the others and pinned her arms behind her back. When she tried to struggle free, his grip tightened into something that wasn't human, because she couldn't move for even a millimeter.

And then the blows came, from Rick, from Mr. Lopez, from Bleachhead, from Susan, from _Finn_. They came in from everywhere at once, usually fists, sometimes feet, and Rick had his hockey stick delivering the most painful hits until Santana's legs could no longer support her own weight and she was leaning against Coleman as much as being restrained by him.

It still wouldn't stop. The hits to her face, her ribs, her shoulders, her head, her stomach…

Her body was on fire with pain, and around her, there was laughter and applause. On a platform, Mr. Schue was providing commentary for the watchers. Coach Sylvester was criticizing her posture and telling her to straighten her back and lift her chin. Quinn was saying that this was nothing compared to giving birth and Santana was being a wuss. Rory said something about potatoes. Rachel was cheering her boyfriend on and praising the hits he scored. Puck was calling her lame and saying he'd taken harder punches than what she was experiencing. Kurt and Blaine were telling her they were way better at being gay than she was. The Cheerios were cheering for their two new co-captains Susan and Bleachhead. The hockey jocks were hooting and howling. Mike and Tina said something about dumplings. Lauren was saying that this wasn't anywhere near as painful as wrestling. Sugar and Mercedes were laughing. _Cackling_.

Brittany?

_Britt, where are you?_

With only one throbbing eye still useable because the other was swollen shut, Santana searched the crowd for a sign of the blond head and blue eyes that were always so familiar and comforting.

Eventually, in the middle of getting a kick from one of Finn's enormous feet, Santana spotted Brittany sitting on Artie's lap. Artie was yelling about how the accident that killed his legs was so much worse than this and Santana had no right to complain or beg anyone to stop.

Brittany… was just _watching_.

Instead of reassuring Santana with warmth, all that could be seen was a cold and accusing icy blue that reminded her of their fight. Santana had yelled at and insulted Brittany. Why was this such a surprise? Of course Brittany wasn't going to offer any help because Santana told her off for being concerned. This was the consequence. The price.

Brittany stood up, turned around and walked away.

* * *

><p>New Directions, plus Mercedes and Sugar, were back at the choir room for an emergency meeting two hours before class. Quinn was personally impressed that everyone made it more or less on time. Even Puck and Finn (who were roused and rushed by Rachel) and Rory (who was picked up and brought by Mike).<p>

There was light chatter and a lot of yawning among the group now, with the majority sporting drowsy and groggy expressions. Mercedes was probably the only one who looked as serious and distressed as Quinn felt, hands clasped tightly on her lap, brow furrowed.

When it was clear that no one was going to start the discussion, Quinn took it upon herself to initiate it. "We royally screwed up that Santervention and even wound up pissing Brittany off." At the sound of her voice, they all stopped to look at her. Now wasn't the time to be nervous or unsure or get distracted by all the Beth thoughts. It was about time Quinn tried to step up and be a more active friend.

She stood up and positioned herself in the middle of the choir room, in front of them all. "And no doubt Santana's mad at us too. We have to make this right."

"I just don't understand how it could've all gotten so out of hand." Rachel said, and before Quinn could get defensive at what sounded to her like an accusation, Rachel added in a voice that was regretful. "I'm really sorry I hadn't been there."

"Well _I_ regret being here now when I could be making out with Breadstix waiteresses instead." Puck grumbled from his place at the back of the choir room. Quinn held back the urge to insult him for going back to his old ways. They were both hurt by the Beth issue, but at least Quinn was trying to get out of it productively now.

Saving Quinn the trouble of giving Puck a judgemental glare, Rachel swatted at his shoulder and whispered a reprimand that Quinn didn't hear.

"I think," Quinn decided to ignore Puck and get on with the discussion with or without his cooperation. "That we should try talking to them again. But both of them this time, and _without offending anyone_." She stressed out the last three words, because after yesterday's complete failure, that point could never be overemphasized. Their attempt to step up turned into three sumbles backwards.

Looking in Finn's direction, Quinn saw that the guy was quiet, staring at his shoes and avoiding eye contact. She wondered if he was going to challenge her for speaking to the group. In the past, Finn had shown possessive, aggressive behavior when he felt like someone was stealing control of New Directions.

Everyone saw how he always acted around Blaine, clearly threatened by the confidence and talent. And no one could forget what it was like to have Finn and Jesse be in the same room, members of the same glee club.

So now, Quinn waited for Finn to try picking a fight with _her_.

But his current behavior, quiet and not trying so hard to get everyone's attention and admiration, came as a shock.

"Why is Finn here?" Mercedes asked.

"Yeah, I guess I get why I'm here, but why's _he_ here?" Puck looked over the top of Rachel's head to raise an eyebrow at Finn "Last time I was in a Santana discussion, Finn was being a complete douche and we were all kinda hatin' on him for it."

Tensing, Quinn waited for Finn to respond with an angry retort, kick a chair and stomp out of the choir room. Instead, she was further surprised by his continued and unexpected silence.

"Rachel and I have had discussion after discussion with him." Kurt answered when it seemed that Finn wasn't going to. "And I am pleased to say that after our combined and persistent efforts, we have successfully rehabilitated Finn."

Finn finally spoke, but it was to address Kurt in what sounded like it was meant to be a whisper but came out louder than intended. "Dude, what does that even mean?"

Ever patient with Finn in all the ways that Quinn could never be when they were together, Rachel patted her boyfriend's shoulder and said, "Kurt just means to say that we've helped you come to your senses and see the wrong you've done. And I'm personally happy that this revelation for you didn't come at the cost of our relationship."

Of course Rachel would always worry about her relationship before anything else, but at least she and Kurt did manage to talk some sense into Finn. Though he had yet to prove with his actions that there was truth to their claims.

On impulse, Quinn would have raged at Finn about how he was what set all this in motion and ruined Santana's life and that he didn't belong in this choir room. But a glance at Rachel reminded Quinn that sometimes people deserved second chances, and third and fourth. And a good friend in the right place could help someone lost and running out of chances get back on track.

So maybe, Finn could use another chance. And this could be it. Active participation in a plan to offer help and support to Santana and Brittany.

This was Santana Lopez they were talking about, the girl who would jump at every chance to insult or criticize everyone within a fifty-foot radius of her. Yet this group of people in this choir room was trying to find a way to be there for her without offending her. Admittedly, it took more than a week for them to finally get moving, and some of them still weren't particularly fond of Santana. But they were uniting under one banner to do some good for the girl who usually hid her goodness.

It was strange for Quinn to be looking at it this way. Most of them were unbelievably selfish and shortsighted, but they were still able to stand up for each other when faced with something serious. Kurt's situation last year brought them together to face Karofsky. The year before that, it was Rachel's that had them all ready to take on Vocal Adrenaline.

And Quinn herself, when she was caught up in all of the Beth depression and delusional schemes, help came to her from one of the last places she expected. Rachel Berry, the girl who would always put her boyfriend and her solos before anything and everything else, was willing to help Quinn out. She even put in the effort to get Finn to feel some remorse for what he did to Santana.

This was what being in glee was all about.

It was Artie that ended Quinn's inner monologue by saying, "It's great and all that Finn's back with us. Okay. But let's get back to the topic, a'ight?" Artie waited for several people to nod before continuing, "About pissing off both sides of Brittana, I'd just like to point out that I doubt Brittany told Santana yet."

"What makes you say that?" Mike asked, "I mean Santana and Brittany have always been really close, and really honest with each other, aren't they?"

"We all know what Santana is like with her woman." Artie began to defend his theory, and sounded like he really believed it. "Girl would've ripped us all to shreds before the end of the day if she knew what happened. My guess is that she doesn't yet."

"He has a point." Sugar nodded in agreement.

After thinking about it for a moment, Quinn saw that there might be some sense behind the idea. It seemed possible. But also after thinking about it, Quinn didn't see how it was significant. "I see your point, Artie. But regardless, we owe them an apology."

"And then what?" Mercedes said, frustrated. "Whatever we say to them, it's not gonna change the fact that Santana's dad hit her or that her parents threw her out or that the Cheerios kicked them off the team and bully them more often than they're letting on. Or anything else. What help would talking to them do?"

Quinn didn't want to admit it, but she had a feeling Mercedes was right. They could _talk_ to Brittany and Santana all they wanted, but it probably wouldn't make much of a difference in their lives. Santana was cynical enough to disregard anything they might try to say.

Well that's what Quinn thought anyway. She wasn't sure anymore if she knew Brittany and Santana as well as she thought she did, especially after Brittany's outburst yesterday.

"Should we try again to get them to report what happened?" Tina gave a suggestion after no one said anything for a minute or so.

"Maybe my daddy can pay someone to beat up her daddy!"

"Sugar, I'm not sure that's really necessary." Rachel looked about as horrified by Sugar's suggestion as Quinn did. "Violence isn't the answer!"

Wasn't it? Though the thought of hiring someone to beat Mr. Lopez sounded repulsive, Quinn wouldn't give up the chance to take a swing at him herself if she could. It was bad enough that Santana's sexuality was being broadcasted to everyone who had a television, but for her own parents to disown her and her father to strike her?

"It was just a suggestion." Sugar speaking again stopped Quinn's train of thought from going any further. "I don't think something like that is meant to happen. Not to my knowledge anyway. I just felt obliged to contribute and say something."

"What are you even talking about, woman?" Artie asked.

"I don't understand." Rory said.

"ASPERGER'S!"

Mercedes rolled her eyes as if this was something she had to deal with often. Quinn wondered if Sugar was even taking the situation as seriously as the rest of them were. She was beginning to think that maybe Sugar was the one who should be given a talk about how big of a deal this was.

"THE BULLY WHIPS!" Kurt exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "What Sugar said about contributing gave me the idea. I think we should _all_ pitch in and revive the club. But this time, it'll be for Santana's benefit. Santana and Brittany's."

Blaine was quick to support his boyfriend. "Kurt, I think that's a great idea!"

"I think it would be a good idea to set up an escort for Santana like what the Bully Whips did for you." Quinn said, liking Kurt's suggestion more and more. "It would probably lessen the frequency of her bullying incidents."

"And there have been_ a lot._" Mercedes said, "We eat together during lunch, and you can just tell they had to deal with one thing or another. It's noticeable when Brittany has to try so hard to get Santana to cheer up and eat."

"I'm willing to take the first shift." Sam raised a hand, and Quinn didn't miss his glance at Mercedes.

"Wait, wait just a goddamn second." Puck said, raising both his hands like he was stopping traffic instead of a discussion. "Don't y'all think it'd weird her out if we follow her around from room to room?"

"You're not just saying this because you'd rather screw around with random girls than protect Santana, are you?" Quinn asked because she couldn't rule out the possibility that he might just be trying to worm his way out of taking a shift.

Looking frustrated, Puck replied with gritted teeth and an irritated tone. "No, I just don't wanna have to deal with her ranting to me about how I'm invading her privacy and pissing her off."

Reluctantly, Quinn stopped the jabbing retort she was about to give. She quietly had to admit that Puck was making sense. Santana may not be too comfortable with the idea of being escorted from classroom to classroom.

"Okay, fine. You have a point." Mercedes and Kurt looked ready to protest, but Quinn cut them off, "But I think we should still try reviving the Bully Whips. At the very least we could have them patrolling the halls. And then we could talk to Santana directly, and ask her how she would feel about the idea of having an escort. We get her and Brittany's permission before we try setting up any escort shifts." No more beating around the bush or attempting to discuss things with Brittany first. They were to talk to Santana directly, or Brittany and Santana together. It would be a challenge, and it would mean putting themselves at risk of bringing upon themselves Santana's infamous anger.

But this was what being in glee was all about.

Looking around the choir room, Quinn saw that most of them were nodding to the things she said, though Puck still looked reluctant. Finn was still quiet and uncomfortable, but his head made a jerky nod.

"Kurt, Rachel, could you guys talk to Figgins about it?" Not sure where her sudden assertiveness and strength were coming from, Quinn decided to just take advantage of it for now and ask questions later. Still, she checked on Finn for some sign of reaction of defiance, but when none came, Quinn went on, "Mercedes, could you come with me, please? I'm planning to talk to Coach Sylvester."

* * *

><p>This was the worst feeling ever.<p>

If Brittany were to rate it from one to ten, with one being the worst, then this would be negative eight thousand five hundred and ninety-three with scary banshees and depressed vampires and dead zombies.

With last night's fight still being constantly replayed in her mind, Brittany wanted nothing more than to make up with Santana and have things be happy and okay. This was easier said than done, because Santana could barely even look at Brittany. They were in a car together, and Santana was sitting as far away as possible on the right side of the back seat.

The words Santana screamed last night were bouncing off the walls of Brittany's skull. They hurt, but they did have a point. Brittany had been too pushy, putting way too much pressure on Santana to talk about something that made her uncomfortable beyond belief.

Uncomfortable was an understatement, even.

But Brittany also felt a mixture of hurt and a little anger at the way Santana had reacted so explosively when all Brittany was trying to do was understand, as well as express what she felt about Santana's father.

To fill the suffocating silence of the car, Brittany said, "Mind if I turn the radio on?"

"Go ahead." Came Santana's whispered, indifferent reply.

Was she still mad at Brittany?

The idea of it hurt like being slapped again. And again.

A series of apologies should be coming out of her mouth right now, but for some reason, they couldn't get any further than Brittany's throat. They just stayed where they were and refused to come out because Brittany kept thinking about Santana's face, voice and body language that night.

It was a mixture of still disapproving of it, and agreeing with it that Brittany was torn between. She wasn't sure which weighed more heavily, and she didn't quite trust herself to say the correct things right now. After that fight, she didn't want to have another one so soon, just because she spoke impulsively and without thinking long enough about how ready Santana might be.

So Brittany turned on the radio and hoped it would successfully distract them both and make the distance between them more bearable.

It didn't.

* * *

><p>How could it get any worse than this? How could she have gotten from top chearleader and HBIC of Mckinley to some homeless loser hiding in the library during lunch time? Santana had to remind herself that she had few things and people to blame other than herself.<p>

Her father and Finn were part of why Santana was hiding here now instead of having lunch with Brittany, Mercedes and Sugar. After all, those two guys made up the bulk of the conversation with Brittany last night. But it wasn't just those two that were to blame. Santana was the one who lost it after all.

_Coversation_.

It was a freaking _fight_.

She didn't like how Brittany kept trying to talk about the subject. Santana didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it and didn't want to turn it into an issue. Instead of leaving it be, Brittany managed to make a fuss about it and let it escalate into the subject of a fullblown argument.

Now, they could hardly talk to each other. It sucked.

Leaning her head back against the bookshelf, Santana looked up at the ceiling and tried to think about something other than the look on Brittany's face when talking turned into screaming.

Alone.

That's how Santana felt right now. Like there was nobody to turn to. As if to put emphasis on the feeling, her most recent nightmare floated out of subconsciousness and into consciousness. It lasted longer than all the others because there was no escape. The physical blows and verbal attacks seemed to go on forever and ever. Endless. Never wavering in strength or intensity. If anything, only increasing.

Brittany wasn't there to wake Santana and save her.

Grasping fistfuls of her own hair and burying her face in her knees, Santana willed the images and the voices away, pushed them back with all the strength she could muster with her exhausted state. She didn't know which was worse, thinking of that damn nightmare or thinking of the real life experience of fighting with Brittany.

In the dream, everyone was against her.

Brittany walked away.

No, Santana _pushed_ her away.

_I shouldn't have yelled at her_. Santana chided herself, until another voice said,_ If she loves you as much as she says she does, she should've dropped the subject_. Actually, Brittany should have. It wasn't as if Santana was being cryptic or vague about how uncomfortable and unwilling she felt. Brittany was being stu-

_No_.

Brittany is a genius.

A genius with the biggest heart in every universe because she had enough room to love someone as high-maintenance as Santana and still be able to be the most gentle and caring person to everyone around her. Pleasant and welcoming. Witty and charming.

It was because of that big and caring heart that Brittany kept asking all those questions. That was just her concern taking control of her words. She did say she was asking because she cared, and because she wanted to understand.

_I shouldn't have yelled at her. I shouldn't have spoken to her like that._

Santana tightened her grip, feeling her scalp screaming in protest. _But why did Britt have to keep going on and on about it? _She practically sounded like a broken record that night with all those questions._ And why did she make it sound like Dad was evil?_

The wedding ring.

_Maybe he _is_ evil_. The look on his face, the harshness in his eyes. Santana wondered if those could even belong to a human being. And what mother would just stand by and do nothing and refuse to even turn around and look at her daughter?

Well that's what happens when you're a bitch, isn't it? This is what Santana got for all the things she'd say to Rachel and Quinn and Finn and Artie and Tina and Lauren and the list could just go on and on. This was the universe implementing justice. This was Santana getting what she deserved.

_Do I really deserve this? _All the anecdotes from Brittany and Mrs. Pierce found their way into Santana's mind, playing out the memories like sentimental old videos. Santana couldn't be a complete bitch, could she? She was good sometimes.

Well Mom and Dad were good sometimes, too. Dad got Santana a car when she somehow managed straight As for one semester (Quinn helped. Sort of. With one tutorial session for some essay about some book. Most of that help came in the form of cheating off of Quinn's exams though.) _Damn, I _am_ a bitch_. And Mom taught Santana how to drive. She also remembered that many, _many_ years ago, she learned fractions and the multiplication table with Mrs. Lopez's help.

_Maybe I'm generally a bitch, but I'm good sometimes. And they're both heartless assholes who also do good sometimes. We're a fucking perfect family_.

The pain in her scalp increased. _God, am I saying any of this out loud? I fucking better not be. Shit, I feel like I'm going insane._ After a second of thinking about it, Santana wished that she _was_ insane. At least then, maybe all of this wouldn't hurt so much anymore. She'd be too detached from the world and sanity to be able to feel anything, right?

Because at this moment, there was nothing Santana wanted more than to turn her emotions off.

Again, she considered talking to Ms. Pillsbury. If school counselors were really supposed to help students with their problems and stuff, maybe it was worth trying out.

Actually, Santana did try earlier, just at the start of the lunch break. She stood by the doorway, which was always open. She watched Ms. Pillsbury busily scribbling away at a notebook, occasionally looking at a pamphlet next to her left hand as if referring to it. There were chairs in front of the desk, just there and ready to let any student take a seat and talk about whatever may be bothering them.

It was supposedly some safe place where emotions could be expressed freely and privately. No judgement. Just honesty and openness and someone willing (and paid) to listen.

But instead of going in, Santana ran from it when Ms. Pillsbury began to look up from her desk.

Ran. Ran away from Ms. Pillsbury's office.

Coward is what Finn called Santana, and coward is probably what she was because she was too afraid of confronting her emotions all over again and talking about it. Talking about it would mean reliving it and dealing with it. Santana wasn't sure she had the guts to do that anytime soon.

Funny enough, since Santana wasn't confronting her emotions, _they_ were confronting _her_. The emotions and the fears and the aches and the scars and the nightmares and the voices were the ones throwing themselves at her without her having a say in anything.

Insanity sounded like salvation right now.

"Santana?"

_Fuck_.

Maybe if she ignored the gel-encrusted dwarf, he'd go away.

"Is that you?"

Wishing she could look like the feared and respected Lima Heights Queen that she was supposed to be and not some dork with pink and puffy eyes, Santana looked up at him, "Get the fuck away from me, I'm allergic to the pixie dust sprinking out of your ass."

The way his caterpillar eyebrows lowered told Santana that she had successfully offended Blaine Warbler. If Santana was a bitch, she might as well enjoy it while she could. She ignored the tight feeling that took hold of something inside her chest.

"I-I-"

"And what the hell are you doing in a library, anyway? Did you finally realize that it's too embarrassing to show up in the cafeteria in that gay nerd cardigan of yours?"

"Kurt's off doing… attending to something. I thought I'd drop by the library and get some studying done." Blaine answered instead of just turning around and walking away. "I'm still adjusting to McKinley's teaching style, the student to teacher ratio's really different from what I got used to at Dalton, and so are the teaching methods. So I'm having trouble with-"

Taking her hands off her hair, Santana grasped the nearest object -a book- and was sorely tempted to throw it at Blaine. "I don't give a fuck, okay? Just get your studying on somewhere else. Leave me the hell alone."

Seeing her brandish the book, Blaine flinched away, but didn't leave immediately. His face was scrunched up by some indecisiveness that kept him in place. Did he have some kind of death wish? Was he purposely waiting around to see her explode? Santana hardened her glare. Maybe Kurt was lying when he said that they were friends. If Blaine was hanging around here looking to pick a fight with Santana, then by association, Kurt was also trying to be an enemy.

"I can't say I know exactly how you feel." Blaine finally spoke after standing around looking like a bushy-browed baby trying to poop. "But… Santana… You're not alone."

"Don't delude yourself into thinking I haven't heard shit like that before." Santana shoved the book back into the shelf, and faced away from him. Maybe if she stopped looking at him and talking to him, he'd go away at last.

"Y'know… when I came out, my dad didn't take it anywhere near as well as Kurt's did." The closeness of Blaine's voice made Santana tense, because he sounded like he was sitting right next to her instead of standing a meter away like he was just a moment ago. "Don't get me wrong, I'm _glad_ Kurt has the dad that he has. I just feel a little envious sometimes."

The words_ I don't give a fuck _were just at the tip of Santana's tongue until they were stopped by how _familiar_ what Blaine said was. It was a lot like what Santana would sometimes say to herself whenever she saw how close Brittany and Mrs. Pierce were.

A bittersweet mixture of grattitude and envy.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but…" He _was_. Blaine just wouldn't shut up. "I really believe that you're not alone and that you'll get through this."

Whatever he believed wasn't going to change how Santana felt right now. Alone and abandoned. And just a little betrayed, too. If she had to hear one more sappy line about how there are people who had her back and cared for her, Santana was going to shove a book up Blaine's nose so hard his eyebrows would fly off.

Right now, all those people who supposedly supported her and were there for her weren't here. Mercedes and Sugar were probably cramming their mouths with food and didn't even notice that Santana was missing. Quinn pretty much vanished from the face of the earth, so screw her. And Brittany? Well that was another story all together.

This degree of mixed anger and hurt towards and from Brittany was something Santana hadn't experienced in a long time. And it chose the perfect moment to happen. Couldn't have been a better time.

"You know… before I transferred to Dalton, and after I came out… it was hell." Blaine continued. "I won't compare it to what you're going through, I won't say either is worse or better. I just… want you to know that to a certain degree, I can understand how you feel."

"Oh yeah?" Was he going to try to tell her what she felt? Come up with some intelligent Dalton man analysis and present the data and expect her to have an epiphany?

"Alone. Frustrated. Angry." Fine, Blaine was right about that part. But that was easy. Everyone felt alone, frustrated and angry once in a while. This was too generic. It wasn't worth any praise or amazement. "I felt like there was no one I could turn to, no one I could trust. I felt like the people who were my friends weren't really my friends because they weren't there when I needed them." Okay, that was a little more specific. And kind of right. "I felt helpless."

Helpless. Santana felt that, too. Like she had no control over anything and there was nothing she could do about it. There was no choice other than to let the violent waves take her wherever it wanted to take her because fighting against the current is futile.

"And I was being bullied bad enough to need medical attention more than once." Blaine went on, then put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me." Santana warned Blaine, and relaxed when he took back his hand. Through narrowed, still suspicious eyes, she looked at Blaine and tried to figure out why he was telling her all of this. Was he planning something? Was this a trap of some sort? "Why the hell are you telling me all this? Do you think I care to hear you blabbering on and on about yourself?"

The hurt look on his face made her feel just _a little bit_ guilty. "I'm sorry, that's not what my intention was."

"Then what was it?"

"Like I said earlier, I want you to understand that I understand. And I'd like to remind you that you're not alone."

Because she wasn't sure what to say in response to this, Santana brought her knees closer to her chest and rested her chin against the uninjured one. In a weird way, Blaine's pity party me-me-me-talk did kind of illustrate that he could understand what she was going through to a certain extent.

"You know, when I went through what I did before Dalton, I didn't have anyone on my side." Blaine said. "I didn't have the Warblers or Kurt."

"So what then? Are you trying to get me to be thankful I gots Britt and the Troubletones?"

"_Yes_."

Santana's hand shot forward almost automatically, grabbing Blaine by his bowtie and jerking him towards her. "Who the hell do you think you are? You don't fucking get a say in what I should or shouldn't feel."

"I didn't mean it that way!" Blaine's eyes were wide with fear that Santana relished. "I'm just giving a suggestion!" Was she asking for any? Santana twisted her fist to the right, causing the bowtie to wrap tighter around his neck. "It helps, okay? When you feel most alone, take a step back and list down the people who've proven that they're there for you. It's c-comforting!"

Blaine's words came out in such a hurried, nervous rush that it took a moment for Santana to process what he said. In that moment, her grip had tightened even more, and his breathing became ragged gasps.

With horror suddenly rushing through her, Santana released Blaine, while Brittany's adamant disapproval of violence summoned waves of guilt and shame.

Santana watched Blaine massage his throat and look at her with the caution people use when standing two feet away from a snarling lion. An apology tried to make its way out of her mouth, but it was barely above a whisper. What would Brittany think if she were here to see this?

For a minute or two, they just stared at each other, until Blaine said, "Just have a little courage. You can overcome this."

Why was he being so nice? Santana wondered why Blaine would give a damn what happened to her. Blaine and Kurt both. It wasn't like they were even friends. Whatever Kurt thought, Santana wasn't ready to really consider him a friend just yet. Friendship required trust, and Santana didn't have much of that left for anyone.

And _courage_? Did he forget who he was talking to? "Cowards don't have courage."

"Cowards don't have courage, yes. But courageous people have fear just as much as cowards do. The difference is that they don't let it stop them. You had the courage to get out of bed this morning and come back to this school, no matter how many times it's bringing you down." Santana thought she heard him waver slightly, get a little bitter. "You have the courage to keep getting up and coming back. I don't see any coward here."

_Tell that to Finn_ would have been Santana's automatic reply, but the way Blaine seemed to echo words Brittany had tried to tell Santana several times before made her pause. It also reminded her about the time she and Brittany watched that Powerpuff Girls episode together, where that square guy told the girls about fear and facing it.

"Er… thanks." It took a little more processing for Santana to remember she was just given a compliment.

"Santana Lopez, since when are you one to react so humbly?" Trying to lighten her mood, Blaine raised an eyebrow and smiled, "Would a coward take on David Karofsky, who's about twice your weight and size? Would a coward fight so hard to get the recognition she deserves in her glee club? Would a coward give Rick the Stick a slushie facial?"

This was also similar to things Brittany was constantly saying, and the fact that Blaine seemed to be reaffirming it lightened Santana's mood enough for a slight smile to take charge of her lips. Until she remembered that Brittany might still be mad about the way Santana spoke to her. That brought her mood back down all over again.

"Santhana," Distraction came in the form of Becky bounding over to them. "Coach Sue wanths to see you in her office."

* * *

><p>All in all, the morning was surprisingly productive. It was going so freakishly well that Quinn was growing more and more paranoid. Something <em>had<em> to go wrong any time soon. Having luck this good just couldn't be normal. The universe always screwed Quinn over. Maybe it was just biding its time.

After having a quick meal with Mercedes, Quinn headed off to search for Brittany, who wasn't replying to any texts. The paranoia gave Quinn the idea that things were just about to start falling apart all over again. It was going to happen _soon_. Any minute now.

The search for Brittany was with the intention of apologizing, as well as to pass on Sue's message. Apologizing was the priority though. Quinn doubted she'd be forgiven, and she'd understand if Brittany was still furious with them all. Still, it was worth a try. The guilt would haunt Quinn for ages if she didn't at least try. That's what Rachel helped Quinn figure out, after all. There was no getting anywhere and there was no putting a stop to pessimistic thoughts of hopelessness and helplessness if one didn't actually _try_ to do something about it.

So now, Quinn was going to _try_.

The universe, or the Lord, didn't answer Quinn's unspoken prayers, but instead presented her with an alternative.

It wasn't Brittany that Quinn found, but Santana. Just at the end of the hallway, following Becky. Now was Quinn's chance. Now or never. Taking a breath, Quinn was about to call out Santana's name.

"Quinn!" An entirely different voice called her from behind, and the recognition made Quinn choke. "There you are! I've been looking for you."

Shelby Corcoran.

Was looking for Quinn Fabray.

Why?

Dread sent Quinn's heart racing while the warmth left her hands, leaving the skin cold and clammy. Off the top of her head, Quinn could only think of a few reasons why Ms. Corcoran would be looking for Quinn. It was either to tell her she was getting into some sort of trouble and going to face punishment for the deception of the baby-snatching plot. Or it was to bring news of Beth—bad news based on the seriousness of Ms. Corcoran's tone.

This was it. This was exactly what Quinn had been waiting for. Of course things couldn't be going right for her for so long. Something bad was bound to happen eventually, to pay for all the good fortune.

What were the chances that the Mack would be smoking under the bleachers right now? Approximately how many cigarettes would she be willing to spare? Quinn found herself preparing a list of possible ways to cope with the inevitable disaster. Maybe Puck could spare a drink or two if Quinn sweet-talked and manipulated him into sharing.

"Would you mind if we talked for a moment?" Ms. Corcoran asked.

Looking over her shoulder and seeing that Santana was nowhere in sight, Quinn answered with as calm a voice as she could manage. "No. It's fine." _God help me_. Quinn braced herself. _Here it comes_.

"It's about Beth." Ms. Corcoran started, and when she paused to choose her next set of words, Quinn's paranoia took her mind through all the worst-case scenarios. "I've been thinking…"

Wait, what?

"And I'm willing to give you another chance."

Wait. _What_?

This was a joke. This _had_ to be some sort of prank. Quinn couldn't believe that this was real life right now. She really didn't know what to feel. A chair to sit down on would be really nice at this moment. This _had_ to be a dream.

Ms. Corcoran took a step forward, closer to Quinn. "I have a proposition for you."

"I…" Quinn swallowed. "I'm listening." Listening for the catch. There had to be one. Meanwhile, Quinn's eyes darted around the walls and ceiling in search of a hidden camera or some other evidence that would confirm that this was some sort of trick.

"I'll let you join the Troubletones, if you still want to." It took a moment for Quinn to remember her attempt to join more than two weeks ago. "Let's give each other some time to be comfortable with each other. And I'd like to gain some trust in you first, before I'll feel okay about letting you near Beth again."

Joining the Troubletones would mean being in the same glee club as Santana, Brittany and Mercedes. Rehearsing with them, singing with them and performing with them. Quinn had to admit that the idea was tempting.

Plus it would mean having the chance to regain Ms. Corocoran's trust and eventually being allowed to see Beth again! It sounded better and better the more Quinn thought about it. "Ms. Corcoran, I-"

"I don't mean to pressure you or put you on the spot." Ms. Corcoran said, "Think about it for a while, and then let me know." After a brief pause, a little hesitation, she added, "But it'd be great if you could decide soon. We're running out of days to rehearse."

Sectionals. It was getting so near, but with everything going on, Quinn hardly had the time to worry about it. She'd almost forgotten that it was already this weekend.

"Okay." Quinn remembered that she was supposed to respond.

"Oh, and could you tell Puck that I'll also give him another chance, but not before he pulls himself together and starts attending his classes regularly again. Mr. Schue and I haven't missed how he's been behaving recently."

Puck. He was turning into a mess and going back to his irresponsible old ways. But Rachel seemed to be working on getting him back on track like she did with Quinn. New Directions' overall performances in competitions would benefit from having Puck and Quinn being on their best behavior and being as emotionally stable as they could be. That was a likely motivation behind Rachel's actions.

But for some reason, Quinn had a feeling that Rachel was doing this because she cared about them as well. That it wasn't just some elaborate scheme to boost their chances of winning.

Maybe Rachel could help Puck enough that he'd be able to see Beth again. It would be nice if both of Beth's parents could babysit her once in a while. This time without any appalling plots.

"I'll tell him." Quinn said. "And… thanks." Really now. Was this actually happening in real life?

Ms. Corcoran smiled. "Thank Rachel."

* * *

><p>After standing around in the cafeteria, avoiding pretty much all of her friends, and searching for Santana to no avail, Brittany headed for the choir room. It was where Santana went after the Mash-Off, so maybe she'd be here again this time.<p>

But she wasn't.

The empty choir room seemed to reflect what Brittany felt on the inside.

Sighing, she sat down on the nearest chair and hoped for Santana to come in through the doorway. It was always horrible whenever they fought. Now felt like the worst time ever to have one. Especially with her current irritation towards the Cheerios, New Directions and Mercedes and Sugar, Brittany felt like she had no one to turn to or talk to.

After always trying to be as pleasant as possible towards people unless she really _really_ didn't like them, Brittany got used to having a lot of people she considered friends. This uncertainty about who really was a friend and who wasn't was a feeling completely alien to Brittany, and she wished Santana would help her sort it out.

Brittany also wished that Santana didn't have to go through everything she did at the hands of her father.

It didn't matter to Brittany if it was just something that rarely happened, no more than four times, or if it was something that took place on a regular basis every night. What mattered was that Mr. Lopez actually did that to his daughter. What mattered was that Mr. and Mrs. Lopez didn't care enough about their daughter to accept her for who she was. What mattered is that neither of those people deserved to have Santana as their daughter.

This morning's discussion with her own mother crossed Brittany's thoughts.

Mom woke Brittany up about an hour earlier than she was supposed to get up to get ready for school. And from the expression on Mom's face, Brittany instantly knew that her fight with Santana hadn't gone by unnoticed.

Which wasn't all that surprising considering how loud their voices were that whole time.

Without hesitating because she trusted her mother enough to come up with sensible advice and to be able to understand her, Brittany told Mrs. Pierce everything, from the Cheerio confrontation and Bennet's slap to the Coleman incident to the choir room incident to Santana's reaction upon finding out about the slap to the talk about Mr. Lopez, and finally to the point when Santana's anger reached its peak.

Brittany also talked about how angry she herself felt almost all the time, how she felt about Finn, Coleman, Mr. Lopez, Rick the Stick and the Cheerios and how she couldn't stop thinking about how much Santana didn't deserve to have all of this happening to her.

She also admitted feeling guilty and confused about the argument with Santana.

"Santana has a lot to overcome." Mom had said, "And you and I both can see that she's got more than just that knee to still heal from. I agree with you that this is _a lot_ to deal with for an eighteen year old. I also undertand why you wanted to talk about Mr. Lopez with her. Also, I believe you'll be able to forgive each other soon enough, and be a double rainbow again. Santana's just hurt and angry right now, and probably as confused as you are."

It was nice to know her mother agreed with her at some points, and also really disapproved of Santana's parents. The confidence she had in them getting through this spat was also reassuring.

Then Mom said something Brittany didn't expect. "Unicorns aren't angels, Brittany. Santana isn't perfect. She's a unicorn, yes. But she's human, too. Human and capable of making mistakes." She had let the words sink in before going on and elaborating, "If Santana feels like talking to Finn again, I'd like you to let her."

At first, Brittany was going to give a long list of reasons why Santana shouldn't, and why Finn was a horrible person who caused all of this to happen and he was better off pulling wagons around instead of pretending he had a horn when he really didn't.

But what Mom had said next was an explanation that helped Brittany understand, "Like I said, Santana's not perfect. As much as she doesn't deserve to go through this, we can't say she's a completely innocent victim. I spoke to her a couple of times about what happened between her and Finn, and she admitted to being really foul towards him."

"But that's still no reason for Finn to out her!" Brittany had reacted with frustration, but forced herself to relax enough to hear out what Mom had to say next.

"That's true, and I agree with you. But you seem to overlook the part Santana played. Britty, with all your defensiveness and righteous anger and frustration, I think you've started to forget a little. You really have to remember that she's a human unicorn and not an angel unicorn, okay?"

Mom had waited for Brittany respond with a reluctant okay before saying something that was easier to comprehend. "Healing from what her parents did to her is something huge, but healing from what Finn did to her is another thing entirely. And I think that for her to recover from that particular pain, she's going to have to talk to him. With any luck, they'll both be able to apologize to each other."

Brittany still couldn't quite agree with it. She still didn't want Santana to be anywhere near Finn Hudson. But if Santana really wanted to talk to him, then who was Brittany to stand in the way? Maybe it would help her heal a little.

But she still didn't like it. Not one bit.

The feeling of being watched was what pulled Brittany out of the place inside her head where she was staying to view and review her thoughts. Looking up, she noticed Mercedes at the doorway, biting her lip and shifting uneasily.

All the assumptions they made about her intelligence and her grasp on Santana's situation was something Brittany had yet to forget.

"Britt, may I come in?"

Being sort-of-but-not-really-anymore kind of mad at Santana was draining. Knowing that Santana was also pretty mad at Brittany, and effectively avoiding her, was even more exhausting. It was taking up enough of Brittany's energy as it was, would she really benefit from feeding the resentment towards Mercedes, Quinn, Sugar and the rest of them? Could she afford it?

"Sure." Brittany decided that she might as well listen to what Mercedes had to say. Though Brittany wasn't ready to start opening up to her about the latest just yet.

Relieved to be invited in instead of turned away, Mercedes approached Brittany and took the seat next to her. "I feel really bad about what happened yesterday, and how it ended."

"Me too." One of the usual icebreaking statements about Lord Tubbington or the fairy under the bathroom sink would have been ideal right now, but Brittany had none she felt like using. She also wasn't too eager to help someone misjudge her again so soon. Better to just be silent.

"I know we offended you, and I'm real sorry about that." Mercedes said, then began to explain herself, "Look, I don't always understand you. And sometimes I seriously have no idea what the hell you're going on about." Mercedes was no special case. Brittany should be used to it by now.

If only Santana were here.

If only Santana wasn't mad at her right now.

"And I think that sometimes you don't get what's going on." Mercedes went on, and Brittany considered stopping her before she said something that would just start the whole issue all over again. "But I made a mistake yesterday. _We_ made a _huge_ mistake."

Now that was a little unexpected. Brittany was sure she was going to hear Mercedes go on and on again about how what happened to Santana was a big deal and how important it was for Brittany to understand that. To hear Mercedes admit that she was wrong was a pleasant surprise.

"When it comes to Santana, you just _get_ it, don't you?" Mercedes asked as if she wanted to make sure she was getting it right. Getting more interested than she had first expected herself to be, Brittany nodded, encouraging Mercedes to continue. "If anyone's an expert on Santana and how she is, it's _you_. So it was wrong for us to think you wouldn't understand. Coz of course you would."

"You're not an idiot, Brittany. I'm sorry we treated you like you were."

The apology and the acknowledgement did wonders on Brittany's mood, allowing her to temporarily put aside the image of Santana's burning eyes and the sound of her harsh yells.

"I forgive you." Hugging Mercedes, Brittany felt an improvement in her mood at the hope that maybe people would begin to see Brittany and Santana as more than just the dumb slut and the raging bitch.

Mercedes was beaming when they pulled away from each other, "Thanks, Britt."

A knock called their attention to the doorway, where they saw Amanda. "Hi… um… excuse me?" The freshman twirled stray strands of her hair around her finger. Unless Coach Sylvester changed any of the strict dress code, Amanda had to fix her ponytail soon.

"What's up?" Mercedes asked.

"Coach Sylvester's asking for Brittany to come to her office."

That was probably the last place Brittany wanted to be right now, and in an attempt to forget about what happened the last time she was in there, she made a playful jab at Amanda's wording. "I don't have an office."

Well maybe it wasn't the _last_ place, particularly. The Lopez residence was a place Brittany was even less willing to be anywhere near. That or the egg section of the supermarket because it made Brittany think about all the mother hens whose eggs with baby chickens in it were turned into eggs with eggs in it.

With an uneasy smile, Amanda tried again. "Coach Sylvester's office. That's where Coach Sylvester wants you to go."

Why should Brittany bother? She wasn't interested in anything Coach Sylvester had to say. Before Brittany could say the thought out loud, Mercedes patted her shoulder and said, "Go ahead."

"But supermarkets are upsetting places to be in."

The baffled expressions on Mercedes and Amanda's faces reminded Brittany that they may never truly understand her. Most people wouldn't even bother listening to the things coming out of her mouth, but some people took the effort to try to undestand a little. Brittany appreciated those people, but it wasn't the same.

Santana wouldn't just listen or just try to understand a little. She would stop and take the time to think about it and decode it and look at it from every angle, and if she couldn't figure it out, she'd ask. She wouldn't just brush it off until she knew if it meant anything, and if it did, what.

"Just go on over there, Britt." Mercedes finally said, at least tactfully avoiding making some comment about supermarkets. "I think it'll be worth it."

Unless Brittany was imagining, it, Mercedes and Amanda exchanged knowing glances.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>Blaine. If the Brittana fanfic community is anything like the Brittana tumblr community (that I'm exposed to at least), then y'all probably aren't all that fond of Blaine, and resent his screen time. (I won't hesitate to admit that I rolled my eyes more often than was healthy during Big Brother)

But again, I think it's important for Santana and Brittany and Brittana to be on the receiving end of friendship from the most unexpected of places. Blaine is just one of those. Sure, Santana's saved Klaine a couple of times, and she and Kurt are on sort-of-friends terms right now, but as I had her say so herself in a previous chapter, she's not ready to go right on and hang out and bond with them on a frequent, regular basis. Not yet.

Plus it was just Kurt she talked to. (And she's still pretty suspicious.) Blaine has yet to gain Santana's trust. And I wanted the library scene with him to be sort of like a step towards Santana trying again at letting her guard down and allowing someone from New Directions (the group she feels a lot of resentment and confusion towards right now) to come a couple of steps closer.

Additionally, I like to think that Blaine is a character who's been through a hell of a lot, too. It's just that it's easy to forget that because of how absurdly the writers tend to handle him. I thought it would be interesting to put him next to Santana and let conversation flow between them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Imogene the Dancing Cow (by the way I love your username just because it has the word 'cow' in it) pointed out that a lot of what I'm writing in terms of Britt's struggles revolves more around Santana's outing than Brittany's outing by association. I sort of bring this up in the last scene of this chapter, but I'll explain some more on the footnote.

Also, I probably won't update this next week. I'll still work on it and write the next scenes, but I'm shifting focus to my other fic, The Cost of Survival, because I haven't updated it in a while already, and I don't want it to get too stagnant.

Plus I'm getting pretty busy with some RL stuff because college is a soul-sucking demon.

Oh, and just so y'all know, I'm slowly wrapping this thing up little by little, and I think we'll be done in two or three chapters, ending at Sectionals.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

* * *

><p>Awkward was the first word Brittany could think of. It was the most appropriate adjective for what it felt like to be sitting just a foot away from Santana. So close to her without being able to even look at her. On top of it all was Coach Sylvester watching them closely from behind her desk.<p>

"So." Coach Sylvester started. "Ladies, both of you may probably be trying to think of the reason why I called you in today." With a glance at Brittany, Coach Sylvester half muttered an addition. "Well one of you at least is capable of thinking."

"You're not exactly our coach anymore." Santana, still not looking at Brittany, had her eyes focused on Coach Sylvester, "So you can't threaten us with laps or extended workouts if I do this."

_Do what?_ Brittany hardly finished the thought when Santana struck. The movement was so fast, all Brittany could see was a blur before she heard the crashing sound to their right.

Eyes practically popping out of her skull, Coach Sylvester gawked at the sculpture of herself on the floor and at the dent on the wall.

"Say anything about Britts and I'm doing the same to the nearest trophy." Santana delivered the threat without blinking.

If she hadn't been sitting down, Brittany probably would have fallen over. The surprising show of protectiveness was frightening and touching in equal measure. Brittany would have hugged Santana if they hadn't currently been going through this rough patch.

"I was actually going to discuss that topic in particular." Coach Sylvester was maintaining composure with obvious difficulty. Come to think of it, it was odd that she wasn't sending Santana straight to Figgins's office. Brittany wondered what that would mean.

Eyes still bulging as she took them off the sculpture, Coach Sylvester looked at Brittany and Santana. "Twiddle Boob and Tw—Brittany."

Coach Sylvester dodged a bullet there. Brittany saw how Santana had tensed, and then relaxed slightly. "Your absences from practice have come to my attention. And while I'm still not particularly fond of either of you, I do hate the two of you _a little_ _less_ than I hate ninety nine point nine percent of McKinley's population."

"Real flattering. Anything else?"

The impatient, sarcastic way Santana spoke was agitating Coach Sylvester. Brittany had to give the woman credit for staying calm this long. Any other day, she would've walked to Principal Figgins' office just to throw a tantrum.

"Don't get used to it sandbags, I'm only going to say this once, so both of you had better be listening carefully." Coach Sylvester glanced at Brittany again, and seemed to bite back a jab she was sorely tempted to make. "You girls are talented. You're my stars. The pair of you is more skilled than majority of the team combined."

"Your loss then." Santana looked at the watch Mrs. Pierce gave her. "Britts and I got class in like five minutes. You done wasting our time?"

"Stay in your seat or I'm going to make sure to put superglue on it next time." Coach Sylvester said. "And I told you. You're better than most of the team."

"So?" Brittany said, "If we're better than them, then without us, you've better chances getting a kiss from Mrs. Claus for Christmas than you do winning competitions with that Brittana-deprived team."

Brittany wasn't sure if it was appropriate to say Britttana when they were currently just Brit and Tana right now. But Coach Sylvester probably didn't even care enough about particulars like these. And she didn't know about last night anyway.

"Which is why I let go of sixty percent of my Cheerios."

That stunned both Brittany and Santana into silence.

"You… what?" Brittany wasn't sure if she had heard it correctly. Turning to Santana, Brittany saw that both of them couldn't believe what their ears were telling them. Lord Tubbington must have snuck something into their food that gave them hallucinations. That was the only logical explanation for this.

"I refuse to allow unnecessarily homophobic behavior to tear my team apart. The solution was to violently rip out what was threatening the unity of my Cheerios." Coach Sylvester shrugged, "Apparantly there were a lot more weeds to remove than I expected. But still, I got the job done. Mini-Brittany helped a great deal by submitting a well-documented list of girls with specifically narrated accounts of each incident. Cross-referenced with witnesses."

"Mini-Brittany?" Santana asked.

"Oh I don't care to remember her name." Coach Sylvester rolled her eyes impatiently. "She's the blond kid with weirdly spaced eyes that follows Brittany around."

"Amanda?" Surprised to find out that Amanda had been so thorough, Brittany made a mental note to thank the girl as soon as possible.

"Wait, so when'd you kick those Cheerios out?" Santana wasn't ready to feel pleased with the news just yet. "And you included Bleachhead Bennet and that Susan bitch, right?"

"It was just this morning." Coach Sylvester answered. "Bleachhead and her little sidekick are out."

The news thrilled Brittany more than she'd expected it to. This was something she'd abstractly wished for more than once, but had yet to really develop a plan to execute. Now, she wouldn't have to!

It was amazing beyond belief to learn that the people who had been bullying Santana so viciously were now facing the consequences of their actions. Unable to suppress a grin, Brittany said, "That's great! It's like finding milk chocolate chip cookies in my room!"

Santana seemed like she was still somewhere between disbelief and suspicion. But there was this guarded, careful happiness hiding just below the surface. Brittany could sense it there.

Why suppress the happiness? This was great news meant to be celebrated!

The initial joy escalated to exhilaration. There would be no more proud, snobby high-and-mighty Cheerios strutting around and slushie-ing Santana or pushing her around. They wouldn't be showing off how much they were above Santana and Brittany anymore!

Overcome by the rush of intense, positive emotions she hadn't experienced in a while, Brittany threw her arms around Santana, looking to share their joy and celebrate together.

For a moment, Santana returned the hug, squeezing Brittany and seeming to enjoy the warmth and closeness.

It lasted for just a few seconds, until Santana pulled away, avoiding eye contact.

"I expect my Cheerio Co-Captain and my strongest and most flexible Cheerio to be on the field bright and early tomorrow, in time for the morning training session." Coach Sylvester told them. "Now get out of my office before I start regretting my decision or lose anymore of my personalized, customized sculptures."

* * *

><p>"Mercedes!" Quinn entered the classroom and went straight to the empty seat next to Mercedes.<p>

"What?"

Considering the pros and cons of sharing the news from Ms. Corcoran, Quinn toyed with her pen. It would depend on how comfortable Mercedes felt about their friendship, given the fact that they'd only started rebuilding the bridge several days ago. If Quinn didn't have Mercedes's approval, then it would be an upsetting conversation, and upset is something Quinn didn't want to feel.

But if Mercedes was okay with it, then that would be awesome.

Either way, it was better to let Mercedes know before anything else. Merely showing up in the Troubletones choir room unannounced may not go so well.

"Would you be okay with me joining the Troubletones? Ms. Corcoran invited me."

Mercedes's face lit up, reminding Quinn that the Troubletones were still short on members. "I'd love that, Quinn!" She extended a fist towards Quinn, "Us sisters gotta stick together, right?"

Struck by the nostalgia that came with the déjà vu, Quinn smiled and awkwardly did the fist bump. It was Mercedes that was the unexpected source of help Quinn had when her pregnancy and all the drama around it created rifts between herself, Puck and Finn.

Glee really was the place where help came from where you least expected it. Not always punctual, but it does still come. And with it comes the sense of being somewhere one belonged. As Rachel would say, '_Being part of something special makes you special._'

Quinn could almost laugh at herself for being such a sap today.

"But what about New Directions?" Mercedes asked.

New Directions? Quinn hadn't thought about that too much yet. Though Troubletones was in need of members, New Directions was, too. They had eleven now, and Quinn's departure would bring them down to ten.

That lunch time spent with some of her teammates came back to Quinn. Blaine spoke for the group and said that they were concerned Quinn may leave them for the Troubletones. To which, she had assured them that it wasn't going to happen.

"I… I still have to think about that." Quinn finally answered.

"Yeah, it'd be best for you to check with them first." Mercedes said, "All this rivalry and fighting really screwed us all up the other week, I don't wanna get that started up all over again if they think we stole you."

Another valid point. Quinn nodded to it and told herself to check with Rachel soon, and ask for advice on the matter.

It was strange to be aware of this trust in the Berry girl who Quinn had bullied for so long.

But it was even weirder to feel like it was _right_ to trust Rachel so much.

* * *

><p>In the hall way outside of Coach Sylvester's office, Brittany and Santana were facing each other but avoiding eye contact and saying nothing. Santana was still frustrated with Brittany for not shutting up about the dad issue, but also felt equally guilty about talking to Brittany so insensitively and explosively.<p>

_Talking_. More like screaming.

"Santana…" Brittany started. She was usually the one that started their talks, being the one more comfortable with her emotions and more used to talking about feelings. Sometimes, it bothered Santana, sometimes it helped. This time, she wasn't sure if she was all that ready to talk about last night.

The pause after Brittany said Santana's name might have been a cue to encourage Brittany to continue. Santana gave none. If they were going to get the discussion going like a minute before the ring of the bell, then Brittany should just hurry up and get on with it.

"Thanks for defending me in there and using your horn to block off Coach Sylvester's black magic." Brittany had her hands behind her back and her eyes on her shoes. The way she slouched her shoulders and swayed side to side reminded Santana of a shy child. The shy child Brittany was all those years ago when no one could understand her ramblings.

And Santana was the cranky awkward kid who wouldn't hesitate to fight off the bullies. It was just something she seemed to be programmed to do. Something that just happened automatically, without requiring any thinking or deciding. "Of course I'll always defend you." _And protect you and care about you._

_No matter how mad or hurt I am._

Santana wished she could say that, just to remind Brittany that whatever was going on between them, Santana would never stand by and let anyone pick on Brittany. Especially after the debacle with Coach Sylvester's canon. Santana had been silent that whole time, to the point that it was Quinn who put in more effort to stop Sue.

A repeat of that was not going to happen. _Ever_. Not on Santana's watch.

Opening her mouth to express this, Santana was about to say it, but instead wound up closing her mouth and looking down. She just couldn't put it into the right words, or say it effectively. And she'd hoped that looking at Brittany's eyes would help convey it.

But looking at her eyes would mean seeing the damage left by last night's harsh words. Santana had all but spelled out the words _Brittany, you're an idiot for talking about this. _They weren't the exact thing said, but Brittany was smart enough to read between the lines.

Of course, Santana hadn't meant that. It hurt when Brittany didn't seem to care that Santana didn't want to discuss her father, didn't seem to sense the reluctance and discomfort escalating to something like betrayal.

But it didn't mean that Brittany was stupid. She didn't deserve to have Santana making that kind of accusation. It was one of the things that hurt Brittany the most, and using that against her was a horrible thing for Santana to do.

As a result, it was guilt that kept Santana quiet and urged her to avoid looking at Brittany's face.

"I don't like it when we fight."

Still with her eyes down, Santana said, "Me too."

For a moment, silence hung in the air between them. Santana didn't know what to say next, and couldn't be sure if Brittany was going to say more. It was the ring of the warning bell urging students to start going to their classrooms that interrupted that silence.

Decreasing the distance between them before Santana could even think about leaving for her next class, Brittany said, "San, I'm really _really_ sorry about bugging you and forcing you to talk about your dad."

After briefly hesitating, Brittany reached out for Santana's hands and gave both a squeeze. "But I didn't like how you were talking to me." Of course she didn't. Santana had been brutal.

Finding her words and a little courage, Santana looked up at Brittany's face. "Britt, you _were_ being pushy and it really got to me." She squeezed Brittany's hands back. "But it was way wrong of me to talk to you the way I did." _Yell at you the way I did._

"We forgive each other, right?" Brittany's smile was small and cautious.

Was it really this simple? "Yeah, I guess so." All the negative feelings about their argument still lingered, and still felt relatively fresh. Santana didn't feel like she could just let it go so suddenly.

Still, it was comforting to know that Brittany forgave her. Santana had yet to follow suit and forgive herself.

There weren't alone anymore. People were walking along the hallways at a brisk pace, trying to get to class in time for the final bell that marked the end of the lunch break. In contrast, Santana and Brittany weren't moving, merely standing still in the hurried crowd.

If they wanted to avoid being late, they should get moving. The passing thought wasn't enough to get Santana to hurry though. Being this close to Brittany again after a nightmare-ridden evening and a distressing morning apart was soothing. It dulled the other emotions Santana still felt from their fight, leaving her with a feeling that resembled being _okay_.

"Santana?" Expecting Brittany to say that they should part ways and get to class immediately, Santana was given the pleasant surprise of Brittany moving closer. For once, Santana didn't feel too worried about how many people might see them. For once, she was more focused about what she felt with Brittany than what bystanders may feel about them.

"You're nothing like Mr. Lopez." Brittany said, "It's like comparing a cyclops and a puppy with six eyes."

If Brittany's comparison had so much emphasis on eyes, Santana suspected that there was meaning behind it, the challenge was figuring out exactly what the symbol was for. Something to do with perspective, perhaps? If Santana was the six-eyed puppy, then maybe that meant it was easier for her to see things that the cyclops couldn't.

What could Santana see that her father couldn't?

The ring of the bell told them they were late for class.

"Britt, we better get going." Santana said, "And I still feel like I'm a lot more like my dad than I'd like to admit." Hell, sometimes she was probably worse than her father. At least he had the sense to choose his battles, bide his time and use his hand only as a last resort. (The night Santana came out was an isolated case wherein the fist was the first resort).

With all the fights Santana had gotten into, there was no way anyone could get around the fact that she had a lot of highly aggressive and violent impulses. The list of times Santana lashed out at someone was _a lot_ longer than the list of incidents Santana had witnessed of her father losing his temper and using his hands.

"You can see the rainbows that he can't." Brittany said, beginning to move away with a look on her face that made her reluctance obvious. "We'll talk more about this, tonight, okay?"

Santana sighed, and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

><p>Puck.<p>

With everything going through her mind right now and taking up so much space, Quinn just barely remembered that she had to pass on Ms. Corcoran's news to Beth's father after class. The excitement of being given another chance gave Quinn a spring in her step that wasn't normal for her. In the back of her mind, the paranoia was still there. She still felt like everything could fall apart at any moment if she wasn't careful, if she dared to let her guard down for too long.

The trick right now was keeping the thought at the back of her mind, and keeping it from taking control of her entire head. Because whenever it did, Quinn got too caught up in the hopelessness and fears that it took over her life. It distorted her perception of the world and her chances of success in it.

Still, Quinn liked to think that she was realistic enough to understand that there were limits, and dreams could only take a person so far. But it wasn't the same as resigning herself to a dark pit of despair and giving up on pursuing anything. There would be no more of that. This was for Rachel, who helped Quinn figure it out in the first place, and for Beth, who didn't deserve to have a Lima Loser for a birth mother. And of course this was for Quinn herself, too.

"I was wondering when you'd show up here again."

Stopping in her tracks, Quinn turned to see the Mack. Of course she'd be here. Under the bleachers was Skank territory.

"I can't say the same for you since you practically live here." Quinn glanced at her phone, doublechecking the text from Puck that said he was in this area.

The Mack shrugged, "Here's better than my place." She offered a cigarette to Quinn. "And you? Are you here for more of these?"

The offer tempted Quinn for about a moment, until she remembered how much Brittany, Mercedes and Rachel disapproved of it. Besides, it wasn't such an enormous necessity anymore. Quinn wasn't trying to erase so much of her thoughts anymore. It was easier to face them now.

She kind of missed the feel and the taste though.

But no.

"No thanks. I'm good." Quinn answered, looking away from Mack's hand and focusing on her face instead. "By any chance, have you seen Puck around here?"

The rejected offer intrigued Mack. Raising an eyebrow and eyeing Quinn up and down, Mack said, "Yeah, I've seen him. Why're you looking for your baby daddy anyways?"

Spotting Puck just around the corner, about to start on a drink, gave Quinn a sense of urgency. "Gotta talk to him." She rushed over to him, throwing over her shoulder an answer to Mack's question.

"Puck!" Looking up at the sound of his name, Puck gave Quinn a lazy wave in greeting, before returning his attention to his bottle, which looked about half empty. Quinn couldn't be sure if it was newly opened and he'd consumed that much in less than half an hour since the last class of the day ended, or if it was left over from another day's session.

"Drop that!" Quinn gave him a verbal order, and when it went by unnoticed, she took action. Seizing the neck of the bottle, she yanked it out of his grasp before he could realize what she was doing.

"What the hell, Quinn?" Puck tried to reach for it, but Quinn stepped away from him.

Now that she had his attention, Quinn began to deliver the message. "You're going to get yourself together and cut down on this if you want to see Beth again."

Rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest, Puck leaned back against the post. "Screw you, Quinn. There's no fucking chance of that. Beth's gone."

"No, she's not." Still careful to keep herself alert for the first sign of Puck trying to lunge forward, Quinn lowered herself into a crouching position so their eyes were level with each other. "I talked to Shelby today. She said if you shape up and start attending your classes regularly again, and if Mr. Schue thinks you're doing better, we'll get another chance."

His eyes narrowed, showing his reluctance. Puck wasn't ready to believe her immediately. It was understandable. Quinn herself wasn't sure if she could fully believe it just yet. "You think she'll really trust us? After we tried to screw her over with the baby booby traps?"

"She's really giving us another chance." Quinn said, "I don't know what Rachel said to convince her. All I know is that this time, I _really_ don't want to mess this up."

"Me too."

* * *

><p>As they walked out of their last class together, side by side, Brittany was again struck by the feeling of being watched. It was different from what she felt when Mercedes was going to apologize. This feeling was worse. Negative and ominous.<p>

Looking over at Santana, Brittany wondered if she was the only one feeling it, and if it was something worth mentioning. By the way Santana walked in the tense, prepared-for-fight-or-flight way that she always did, it was difficult to tell.

A quick scan of the hallway while moving a little closer to Santana produced no results. Brittany was tempted to hold Santana's hand or offer a pinky, just to get some sense of a connection to her and feel reassured by that.

Though they exchanged apologies a few hours ago, Brittany didn't think they were in the clear just yet. There were still a number of things that needed to be discussed and addressed. Plus even if Brittany had already forgiven Santana, it seemed that Santana hadn't completely forgiven herself or Brittany yet.

Frustrated by how about a minute had passed but the ominous feeling of being watched had yet to go away, Brittany scanned the hallway one more time. This time, she caught a glimpse of the Cheerio uniform down the hall, behind them.

Before Brittany could focus on the face obscured by distance and the crowd, Mercedes demanded their attention. "Brittany, Santana, can I please talk to you guys?"

"Troubletones emergency?" Santana asked.

Keeping pace with them, positioned next to Brittany, Mercedes didn't answer right away. It was like she was rethinking the urgency of whatever it was she wanted to say. "The Troubletones is an issue, yeah…" Mercedes began, careful. "But I think we'll manage. Sugar said she's recruiting a couple more people. Plus I'm getting one of my friends from church to come join us. She said she'll be showing up at tomorrow's rehearsal."

"We'll manage to get in enough rehearsals before Sectionals, right?" This normally wouldn't be a question Brittany would ask. The optimism that had been part of her for so long should have been enough reassurance. "We can do this?"

This time, it wasn't.

"I… I think we can do it. I mean the arrangement Shelby came up with of the Survivor/I Will Survive mash-up sounds pretty sweet." Mercedes answered, "And the focus the song put on our voices, specially me and Santana's." There was a brief, apologetic glance Mercedes made at Brittany. It was fine, though. She understood that as far as competitions went, Mercedes and Santana were the ideal choices when it came to solo distribution. As long as Brittany could dance her heart out on stage, and sing privately in Santana's ear, it was okay. "Means that all our new short-notice members won't be too pressured as long as they're quick enough to figure out the support and backup vocals they'll be doing."

"We got stuck doing that for Berry for like a million years." Santana said, "It ain't that hard. If any one of them complains, I'm bashing their head against the piano." As soon as the words left her mouth, Santana flinched, and her eyes darted towards Brittany.

The violence issue was something they both still needed to discuss. Brittany realized that Santana might be feeling more disturbed by it than she was letting on. If she was suddenly getting hesitant and nervous about the way she normally spoke, then this was definitely something that needed to be addressed tonight.

"Yeah. They'll probably manage." Mercedes agreed. "As for us, I was wondering if we could practice a little more together, since we've really gotta nail it. Rachel's not here to be our big show anymore. It's just us now."

Santana glanced at Brittany before saying, "Sure, I guess? But not tonight. There's something… Britt and I gotta take care of first." Brittany had a feeling that though Santana wasn't too keen on it, she was at least really prioritizing their overdue talk.

"Yeah, maybe tomorrow night?" Brittany suggested. "After our TT rehearsal, you two could have a Mertana rehearsal at home. I'll just ask my parents later, but I'm pretty sure they'll be cool with it."

With a smile, Mercedes nodded. "Sounds good to me. So we got the audio covered. For the dancing, I think we're good as long as all our members can keep up with the steps you guys started choreographing."

"Yeah… about that…" Brittany and Santana hardly ever found time to build up on what little they'd accomplished last week and over the weekend. "We're still kinda stuck at the Troubletones part after Santana's." The part that Ms. Corcoran said would involve all the members singing in harmony. With homework and Santana's down moods and Brittany's irritable moments and the choir room explosion and last night's fight, it was hard to make much progress.

Seeming to sense that there was something bigger going on, Mercedes accepted what Brittany said without giving any lecture or reprimand. "It's cool. Accomplish what you can, but it's not… y'know… what's really _important_."

"Thanks, Wheezy." Santana sounded relieved. Compared to the way Finn or Rachel might have reacted, this really was a blessing. Thank divine powers and rainbow magic that Mercedes was the leader of the Troubletones.

"Thanks a bunch." Brittany said, and meant it. Though Mercedes didn't put up any campaign posters, she was nevertheless a pretty good leader. She knew how to talk to them without putting anyone down. Last last week, Mercedes was able to make it clear that she disapproved of Santana's behavior towards Finn, but still highly valued Santana and her talent. It had been impressive to witness.

Mercedes accepted their thanks with a smile, then said, "But if it's okay with you guys, I really think we have to step up rehearsals starting tomorrow. And Saturday better be a whole day rehearsal. But like I said, it's only as long as you two will be okay with it."

"Your mom's cool with that, right?" Santana looked to Brittany, almost sounding like she was asking for permission. "Saturday would be okay?"

The fact that Santana now depended on Brittany's parents practically as much as Brittany did was something she still had to get used to. "Y-yeah. I'm pretty sure mom'll let us do that. She knows how big of a deal Sectionals is."

"Great." Mercedes seemed satisfied, then went back to being distressed.

"It doesn't sound like it's great to you." Brittany made the observation out loud, intending it to be an invitation for Mercedes to open up about what really was on her mind. If Brittany wasn't mistaken, this had never been about the Troubletones from the start. It was Santana that brought it up.

They were outside the school building now, and the car was in sight. Brittany slowed to a stop. Santana, looking like she was a mixture of confused, curious and impatient, stopped too. Mercedes seemed somewhere between relieved and still distressed as she stopped as well.

"Remember when I asked you about Santana and Artie?"

"What's going on?" Eyes narrowing, Santana looked from Mercedes to Brittany. "Did I miss something?"

"Yesterday, Mercedes asked me about what it was like when I was with Artie, and how it affected us, and how we became us." Brittany explained. "It was lunch time, I think?"

"I—ohh." Facing away from them, Santana seemed to remember what was probably happening to her when Brittany and Mercedes had their conversation.

The anger she felt towards Coleman came back to Brittany.

"If it's okay… I kinda wanna ask you guys for advice." Mercedes didn't seem to notice their changes in mood.

Forcing the anger back below the surface, Brittany tried to sound as calm and concerned as possible when she said, "Advice on what?" In the end, she needed to add to that to be able to ease Santana's tension as well as her own. "Did you catch Lord Tubbington cheating on two cats and a chihuahua again?"

The quick flash of frustrated confusion that passed over Mercedes's face was always going to be a reminder that she still had difficulty understanding Brittany. "I… No. It's not about—It's about Shane. And Sam."

"Are they fucking each other behind your back?" Santana asked.

If Brittany had two tennis balls with her right now, she would've put them next to Mercedes's eyes just to see which was bigger, because Mercedes's eyes got _huge_. Her mouth opened wide, too.

"NO." It took a moment or two for Mercedes to get over the shock, regain composure and wipe the mental images out of her head. "Hell to the no! God, I _hope_ not."

"It'd be like cookies and cream." Brittany could see how contrasting their skintones were. It was a much bigger difference than Santana and Brittany's. Who would be on top though? Sam was a sweet, sensitive type of guy, so stereotypically speaking, it would probably make sense for him to be the bottom. But Shane had such a huge, bulky body. The thought of him being on top made Brittany truly worry about how badly Sam could be crushed under that weight.

But then again, Sam was really athletic, so maybe he could handle the weight with ease.

"_Okaaay_." Mercedes shook her head. "I am probably not eating anything cookies and cream flavored for the next few months. Guys, why the hell would you give me that mental image?"

Santana shrugged. "If you're comparing your triangle to Brittana versus Bartie, I figured it was Shanecedes versus Sham."

"No, I… didn't mean it that way." Mercedes was still flustered by the idea of Sham. Brittany couldn't blame her. She had always thought that Sam was probably bi, but she pictured him with someone more like Kurt or even Blaine. Or Finn maybe. But Shane? Way too many clashing factors there.

Still. Who was Brittany to judge? If Shane and Sam really had something going on between them, well then love is love.

"Brittany? Santana?" By the way Mercedes had to call their attention, it wasn't hard to guess that Brittany wasn't the only one still imagining all the aspects surrounding and affecting Sham. Or was Evansley a better name for their ship? "Don't get me wrong, I love the two of you. And I love Kurt and support what he's got with Blaine. But I really don't see it happening with Shane and Sam, okay?"

"So it's Samcedes versus Shanecedes then?" Brittany said.

Mercedes nodded.

"Never thought I'd ever actually have this kind of girl talk with you, 'Cedes." Santana said, "But go on and tell us all about it." It wasn't a forceful or impatient tone. Santana was genuinely interested. She invested enough in her friendship with Mercedes to actually care.

Brittany felt an irrationally immense amount of pride.

"I feel really confused about all of this." Mercedes's words practically poured out of her as if she'd been holding them in for too long. Not even the awkward conversation about Sham that preceded this could cause her to hesitate. "I mean I know I have feelings for Shane. But I also know that I still have feelings for Sam. We were… sort of together after prom. Until a few weeks through summer break, when they had to move."

"Then Shane came into the picture." Mercedes nodded to show that Santana's guess was correct.

"Did Sam say he wanted you back?" Brittany asked. If Sam did, it was relatively similar to the events surrounding Brittany's relationship with Artie and Santana.

Mercedes looked really uncomfortable as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and toyed with the pockets of her hoodie. "Yeah… sort of." From toying with her pockets, Mercedes's hands moved up to her large videotape-shaped pendant. "Is it weird that I… I find myself spending more and more time looking at a Na'vi bracelet Sam got me over the summer, than at the bling Shane gets me?"

"I don't think so." Brittany answered.

Santana's jaw was set in the way she usually positioned it when she was thinking. Brittany decided to let Santana give her input first. After all, Mercedes already heard Brittany's side of the Artie story, it might provide some insight if Santana went the same direction but provided her own perspective. "Quinn and I haven't had this kind of talk in ages, and back in the day, it was usually about Finn, who I always thought was way too much of an idiot for Quinn and her freaky straight-A's. And when Britts and I weren't together yet, our girl talks about guys wasn't really anything relationship-related."

Mercedes was raising an eyebrow, and seemed like she wasn't quite following where Santana was going or see the significance in what she was saying.

"So we're not really experts on this girl talk stuff." Santana continued, "But I can tell you that if Sam really is still seriously into you, then I can sorta get how he'd feel." Moving closer to Brittany, Santana's usual discomfort over talking about feelings was resurfacing. Brittany admired her for continuing on despite that. "Seeing Bartie being all over each other hurt like hell. And it got me thinking… and I know this sounds cheesy as fuck, but it got me thinking that even if I could have just about any guy with functional balls, I only wanted _Brittany_."

As if she didn't feel comfortable with saying more on this, Santana looked at Brittany for support, expecting her to carry on and finish the story. "San and I weren't talking that much when I was with Artie, but I could see how she was running out of rainbows and sunshine. And I didn't like that. Whatever I felt for Artie, there was still something I felt for Santana."

"Sam's the goody, dorky type." Santana said, "I doubt he'd try to purposely break you and Shane up like I kept trying to. But when you do choose who it is in the end, you gotta be sure to tell both of them. If you pick Shane, Sam's not gonna stop waiting and hoping unless you clearly draw the line for him."

"That's assuming I actually succeed at deciding." Mercedes said with a sigh. "They're two different guys who make me feel two different ways, and I can't figure out what's the right thing to do." She looked at Brittany, "You told me to pick the guy I can see myself being with years from now. I can see myself with Sam, and that's great. But I can also imagine Shane and I having a future together. We've already talked a bit about it, after all."

Looking back to all the ups and downs of that year Santana confessed, Brittany tried to think of what other things helped her decide that Santana meant more to her than Artie did. Of course being caught cheating on him kind of made the decision for her. But her own choice to mess around with Santana while still with Artie- that was something Brittany did on her own.

"Santana and I were best friends before we became anything else." Brittany said. "Even when I was focused on Artie, I couldn't abandon Santana when she was learning to accept her real unicorn self. I had to be San's best friend and be there for her."

Reaching out for Santana's hand, Brittany felt relieved when the offer was accepted, and their fingers intertwined. "I think the fact that we're friends means we get each other better than anyone else." Brittany liked to think that this is what really mattered- that no matter what, they would always be best friends as much as lovers, and whatever happens, they'll always face problems together and grow together.

"Yeah, Britt's got a point, Wheezy." Santana squeezed Brittany's hand. "I'd suggest you choose the guy who gets you most and is reliable and there for you. The guy that knows how to value friendship."

"Be with someone who's comfortable enough to show their real magic self with you, and who you're most cool with sharing _your_ magic with." Brittany said, feeling like she and Santana were following the same train of thought. "When best friends fight, they always know they'll come back to each other and understand each other."

"But when lovers break up, that's usually it." Santana continued.

"It's never the same after." Brittany briefly thought about how she and Artie would never be that open with each other again. "You could be sort-of friends, but that's only after like a long time." A long time apart to heal. "And it's really _really_ never the same."

"At least if you were friends before you got together, you'll find a way to be friends again after." At this, Santana leaned even closer to Brittany. Though she doubted that they would ever break up now that they were together, Brittany knew that their friendship was very significant, and it helped them maintain balance in their relationship. They hardly ever had the kind of drama Finchel go through every other day.

"So pick the guy who you see as both your best friend and your boyfriend." Brittany concluded.

As Mercedes pursed her lips and considered their suggestion, Santana, nervous from being so open, gave a disclaimer, "But this is of course… y'know… our advice based on our experience. It's not like we know everything about relationships and shit."

"You guys! Mercedes! Brittany! Santana! Mercedesbrittanysantana!" Sugar came running over to them. "Mercedesbrittanysantana!" At the speed she was going, in all her excitement, Sugar failed to slow down in time and went crashing straight into Brittany.

"Sugar, what now?" Mercedes glared at Sugar, exasperated.

After apologizing to Brittany, Sugar started hopping up and down excitedly, "We've got three more members coming in tomorrow! Three! More! Members!"

"If you don't stop jumping like that, you're going to end up flying all the way to the moon and we'd never be able to bring you back down in time for Sectionals." Brittany warned her. It was getting dizzying to keep track of Sugar's up and down movement.

"Sorry, _mom_." Sugar rolled her eyes but stopped jumping anyway. "And you won't believe who helped me get two out of those three girls!"

"I'm not up for any guessing games. Spit it out and tell us or don't even bother." Santana, ever impatient, wasn't as intrigued as Brittany was.

"Fine. You guys are no fun." Sugar's shoulders slumped. "It was the Mack."

Brittany wasn't sure if she'd heard that correctly. _The Mack_? She'd always seemed like their least committed member, frequently coming to rehearsals late and rarely giving any suggestions during their discussions. She wasn't a bad singer though. Brittany just wished she'd put in more effort.

But effort to this extent had been completely unexpected.

"None of you believe me." Sugar lifted her chin, a smirk on her face. "Well it's true. Mack texted me to meet her under the bleachers, and we talked to her fellow Skanks and got them to join us, and I promised to pay them for each rehearsal, and a big bonus for performing at Sectionals. I'm _awesome_."

* * *

><p>Knowing that the Mack actually helped get them two more members was strange. Santana still couldn't quite believe it. Even Brittany, who Santana knew always expected the best in people, was shocked and in disbelief. Mercedes, after making sure that Sugar wasn't kidding around, asked if it really was okay with Mr. Motta that Sugar was throwing so much money around.<p>

Sugar just shrugged and said they had more than enough extra cash to spare on this. Besides, Mr. Motta was really invested in the Troubletones.

If Santana were to be honest with herself, she had to admit that she felt a little jealous. While Sugar could so easily shove money into people's hands, Santana hardly had any of her own, and needed Mr. and Mrs. Pierce to provide lunch money. And if Mrs. Pierce kept her word, they would be providing college money, too.

For their daughter and their daughter's girlfriend.

The Pierces were doing well financially, but they weren't anywhere near as rich as Sugar Motta. What Brittany's parents were offering was a lot to ask. Which is why Santana didn't ask. Which was why it was such a surprising and unbelievably generous offer.

As she cut into the steak Mrs. Pierce prepared for dinner, Santana wished there was more she could do to show her gratitude other than stay out of trouble or focus on school or treat their daughter well.

They were being more like parents than Mr. and Mrs. Lopez were.

The thought of her own parents sent a shudder through Santana, reminding her of the most recent –and by far the worst- nightmare. She tried to think about something else and shoveled the food into her mouth, focusing on the taste of the juices in the meat instead.

Of course Brittany noticed, and offered comfort in the form of a hand on Santana's thigh. It wasn't the kind of touch meant to arouse or excite, but warm and reassure. One of those little things Santana still noticed and appreciated about how they'd gone from friends with benefits to girlfriends.

Though the nightmare, and her parents, and all the other stress-inducing thoughts were still on Santana's mind, she felt a little calmer, and thanked Brittany with a glance and a small smile.

"Hammy learned to use his new hamster wheel today!" Across Santana, Emily was eagerly telling Mrs. Pierce about what happened at school today.

"Did you throw a party to celebrate it?" Mrs. Pierce asked, "That's a big accomplishment for Hammy, after all."

"We did! During recess, we all put together our snacks and it was a feast and Annie sang and Mrs. Smith played music. That's why she's my favorite teacher, she knows why it's so important for Hammy to know we're really reallyreally _really_ proud of him!"

"You used to have a hamster, too, didn't you?" While Emily chattered away to her mother, Mr. Pierce addressed Brittany, "What was the thing's name?"

"It was a guinea pig, Dad." Brittany kept her hand on Santana's thigh for several more seconds before moving it away. "There's a difference."

Mildly amused, Mr. Pierce rolled his eyes and said, "Whatever. They're all just rats to me."

"Mrs. Fluffles was _not_ just a rat!"

There was something about talking about pet rodents at the dinner table that further soothed Santana's tension. It was such a trivial topic, and everyone seemed to be so at ease with the discussion and with each other.

Mr. Pierce was slouching towards Brittany, and his normally neat blond hair was all over his forehead, several stray strands seemed to brush his eyelashes whenever he moved. Mrs. Pierce was leaning back against her chair and playing with her fork while listening to Emily. Emily was practically bouncing in her seat and making wide gestures with her hands to put emphasis on various parts of her story. Several times, her little hands would bump Rory, who was next to her and slouching so much, his nose was no more than three inches from the plate.

At this table, there was no pressure to sit up with a straight back or eat with measured, proper movements. There was no requirement of a detailed update regarding her academic status in school, or any long lectures about the dynamics of working at a hospital, or what was or wasn't healthy.

Being here was… relaxing.

"I 'ad a pet rat b'fore." Rory said, looking up from his plate. "Named 'im Collin. Real fun li'l guy 'e wus." His face fell. "Den 'e ate m'homewurk."

"So did you tell your teacher about that?" Allowing herself to absorb the positive atmosphere of her environment, Santana grinned, pointed her fork at Rory and did something she never would have done anywhere else. "Did you go like, 'Ma'am, oi am soory, but m'rawt ate mah humwork.'"

Rory's eyebrows rose up, "I doant sound like dat!"

Moving her attention from Mr. Pierce to Rory, Brittany said, "Actually, you do. I still don't understand your Irelingish sometimes."

"Aw, come now, m'accent can't be dat thick!" Rory looked from one person to the other. "Is it?"

When no one responded, Emily took it upon herself to answer Rory's question. "It is. Sometimes I just smile and nod when you talk to me coz I dunno what you're saying."

"Is dat why y'nodded whun I asked if ya wur into beours like yur sister?"

"Beeyurs?" Santana repeated, trying to remember the last time Rory used the term.

"_Girls_." Rory said, putting on a somewhat annoyed expression and tone. "I wus askin' if ya wur into girls like yur sister."

"You said _yes_ to that?" Brittany and her parents looked at the youngest Pierce. Santana did, too.

Emily threw her arms up, "I didn't know he asked that!" Then she tapped her chin and considered the question. "I like both Harry _and_ Hermione. I like Carly and I like Freddie. I liked Justin Bieber not because he's a boy but because he used to look like such a girl. So I guess I like both...?"

"No girlfriends or boyfriends until you're eighteen." Mr. Pierce warned his daughter in a mock-serious voice.

Again, Santana felt a mixture of envy and gratitude at seeing how open-minded this family was, especially when compared to hers.

* * *

><p>There wasn't much homework today, and all her Facebook notifications had already been attended to. Quinn was in her nightgown and ready to sleep early tonight, but instead lay awake, staring at the ceiling.<p>

After the other New Directions members explicitly talked last week about worrying Quinn may leave them for the Troubletones, she was _actually_ considering doing just that. A sense of loyalty to the group kept her from doing anything rash or immediate. It kept her from turning consideration and decision.

Rachel had helped Quinn more than anyone would ever know, and it felt almost like treachery to desert them, to just leave abruptly and without warning. Quinn didn't want to do that.

But she also wished to make good on what she'd said about being a better friend to Santana and Brittany. So far, those had been empty words. That brief Saturday they spent together was one thing, but Quinn didn't follow through. She abandoned them in the days after that and ignored the little bits and pieces of gossip she would hear about the tension within the Cheerios, and the conflicts with the hockey team.

Some friend she'd been.

On top of that, Quinn had offended Brittany to the point of causing such an intense explosion of anger. It was the first time she'd ever seen Brittany _that_ angry. Before then, Quinn had always assumed that Brittany was too gentle and forgiving to ever be able to get mad at anyone. After all, she was always the one that hesitated whenever the Unholy Trinity would come up with popularity-climbing schemes.

Quinn really wanted to make it up to them. Joining the Troubletones would be a great start.

And of course, last but definitely not least, there was the Beth factor of it all.

If she got it right, Quinn could reconnect with three of the very few people she considered truly important. She would actually be actively doing something to be a better friend and a better birth mother. Working at it instead of moping or beating herself up.

This wasn't an easy decision to make. Quinn really hoped she could get this one right.

* * *

><p>"So… here we are."<p>

In Brittany's room, sitting on Brittany's bed, facing each other.

"Here we are." Brittany nodded.

From his basket next to Brittany's side of the bed, Lord Tubbington let out a throaty sound that seemed like the combination of a growl and a meow, as if hurrying them to get on with the talk they agreed to have tonight.

Lord Tubbington was right. They weren't going to get anything done by just sitting across each other quietly. "San… I know I've forgiven you, but I just want to be sure…" Brittany hugged her pillow closer to her chest, trying to find strength and comfort in it. "But have you really forgiven me?"

Santana didn't answer right away, tightening her grip on her own pillow.

The pause was enough to worry Brittany and wash away the happy mood she got from dinner. It was tempting to ask the question again and beg for an answer, but Brittany held her tongue. After last night, she _really_ didn't want to say anything that would seem pushy or pressuring. It would look as if there was nothing learned from their argument, and it would negate Brittany's apology.

"Here's the thing, Britt." Santana finally spoke after what felt like several long minutes. "I'm not… y'know… mad at you anymore. But I'm not completely over what you did… not yet."

Bringing the pillow up to her chin, Brittany mumbled around it. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Santana said. "And I get that you were bugging me about it coz you were worried." There was some small comfort in knowing that at least Santana understood why Brittany behaved the way she did. But of course understanding something with your head is always a completely different matter from accepting something with your heart.

Staying silent first to think about what she wanted to say, Brittany thought hard about how to approach this. The whole issue was still something that really bothered her, and it would be difficult to just brush it under the rug and pretend it's nothing if that's what Santana really wanted her to do.

"But Britt, I really…" Santana's brow furrowed as she struggled to put words to her emotions. "It really didn't… _feel right_ when you kept talking about my Dad that way. It made me… think about him. About the stuff I'd really rather not think about."

Again, Brittany stayed quiet. She came close to blurting out an impulsive rant about how wrong it was for Mr. Lopez to hurt his daughter when he was supposed to love her and accept her no matter what. How the Lopez parents were bad people for doing this to Santana.

But she was able to successfully stop herself. Brittany still firmly believed that there was a big issue under all of this that needed to be addressed, but knew this was something to approach carefully. She shouldn't force Santana into an uncomfortable position and make her face something that she wasn't ready to.

That would be too much of a _Finn_ thing to do.

"San, I really don't want to force you into doing anything you don't want to do." Brittany started, still choosing her words carefully. "I really don't want to do anything like that again, but…"

But what?

How should she say it?

At least Santana could guess what Brittany was trying to but couldn't say. "I don't know if I can, Britt." She sounded so small when she whispered this in a voice that shook. By the way the pillowcase was creased, Brittany could guess that Santana was squeezing very tightly.

"I really…" Brittany hesitated again, inching closer to Santana. They were being so honest with each other now, maybe it would cause more harm than good for Brittany to hold back what she was thinking. "I really think you should talk about your dad and… address the problem because I think there _is_ a problem."

Realizing that what she said could be taken the wrong way, Brittany explained further, "You don't have to talk about it with me. You can talk about it with anyone you'd feel okay with talking about it with. It's just…" Brittany played with the corner of the pillowcase and moved even closer to Santana. "San, I feel like this is the kind of thing that you're better off facing than hiding from. Like a dragon inside your house. You have to meet it and respond to it or it's gonna take over the whole place."

Maybe after Santana had healed from this and gotten past this, she'd be more at peace and be less mad at the world because being mad was draining. If Brittany was tired out from and could hardly deal with her increasing two-week-old anger, what about Santana? She must have had hers for the longest time.

The more Brittany thought about it, the more convinced she was that whatever went on behind the closed doors of the Lopez house had made Santana the aggressive person she was today.

"Britt, I really don't feel like talking about the whole thing just yet." Santana said, but didn't stop there, "But I'll admit… I still weirdly feel… _something_ for them. Even after _all of this_."

Brittany didn't know what that would feel like. She tried to imagine how she would respond if her own parents had hurt her and treated her the same way Santana's were now. Imagining a world where Mr. and Mrs. Pierce were as judgemental and harsh as Mr. and Mrs. Lopez… it was hard.

She couldn't.

Brittany simply didn't know what she would have done in Santana's place.

"I don't know what to say." She admitted.

The creases on the pillow and pillowcase increased. "This'd be so much easier if I could just stop caring about them." Santana said. "But part of me though _is_ really mad at them for what they did. And Dad… well I'm honestly more scared of him than mad at him."

Not sure what to say to this, Brittany put aside the pillow and opened her arms, hoping to offer comfort via an embrace. Without hesitating, Santana accepted the offer and crawled over to Brittany's lap and wrapped arms around her waist.

"At least he can never hurt you again." Brittany said, shifting so Santana could be more comfortable. "And San, you are _nothing_ like him. I understand your reasons whenever you get into Snixx mode. But his... well... y'know." She still wasn't sure how much she could elaborate on it.

What Santana said next was whispered and almost muffled by the pillow between her head and Brittany's lap. What she did hear was something like, "I still feel like I deserved those other times."

"You didn't." Brittany wished there was some way she could get Santana to believe it and stop thinking about how much she deserved any abuse or how much she was like her father. "Whatever he's done to you before, and what he's done that night you came out… it wasn't right, Santana." It was tempting to use some analogy to further explain her point, but Brittany feared that it would make her black-and-white view of the situation too clear, and Santana didn't seem like she was going to look at it that way.

Besides, despite how much Brittany detested Santana's parents right now, they were still Santana's parents and Santana still felt attached to them. This was a sensitive topic Brittany had to think hard about at every step.

Honestly? It was a little draining.

But it was for Santana, and it would be worth it.

Santana didn't say anything, and Brittany assumed that meant it was time to be quiet and give each other the space to figure their thoughts out. Santana would talk when she was ready to.

Meanwhile, Brittany found herself once again going through thoughts of how much Santana didn't deserve to go through all of these difficult, painful situations. It was bad enough her parents didn't accept her, but even her schoolmates? That was a lot for anyone to handle.

Brittany realized that she was thankful for getting past the brief time people were shocked by her openness to either guys or girls. Coming from a home environment that tried to be as accepting as possible, Brittany herself was surprised to find out that it wasn't normal to most of the world.

It was sometime around their freshman year that Brittany's attraction towards either gender became apparent, and Santana had tried to convince her to be more subtle, to hide it, even. But the whole idea of hiding it was something Brittany could never understand, so she failed miserably at making it seem as though she had no interest in girls.

Still, McKinley barely made any big deal out if it. There were a lot of people who freaked out, and a few girls wound up staying away from her, in fact, the other Cheerios were clearly uncomfortable around her for a while. But none of that lasted very long.

Brittany liked to think that it was because they had learned to accept her sexuality, but she knew it was because they simply assumed she didn't have the mental capacity to know the difference and no one could be bothered to '_correct'_ her.

Compared to Brittany's '_coming out'_, if one could call it that since she was never really _in_ the closet, Santana's was breaking news that everyone seemed to have a reaction to. After everything Santana did to hide it carefully and obsessively, the truth was either a big shock or a confirmation of suspicions Santana tried to discourage with swift fists and vicious words.

Based on how Bennet, Susan and their minions bullied them so badly, Brittany had a feeling that there were Cheerios who still never got over Brittany's sexuality, but used Santana's outing as the go-signal to make their feelings clear about both girls. The focus was normally on Santana though. Brittany wasn't sure if it was because they assumed that Santana was supposed to be 'smart enough' to make the 'right choice', or if it was something else.

What Bennet said before the slap happened came back to Brittany.

_Ever since we got Lopez out, I've been rising up. I am _not _gonna let you take this away._

It was possible that this was more about power and popularity than any personal issue against Santana. Brittany realized that maybe the sexuality issue had just been used by Susan and Bennet as a gateway to overthrowing Santana as head cheerleader.

If this was the case, then it sure served them right that Coach Sylvester kicked them off the team.

Was Santana shivering?

Pushing away her train of thought and regaining awareness of her surroundings, Brittany realized that Santana _was_ trembling. And it didn't seem like it was from feeling cold.

"San… you okay?" Brittany bent over, placing her face close to Santana's head, which was buried in the pillow.

Instead of answering, Santana's arms wrapped tighter around Brittany's waist. The trembling increased.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked, starting to feel alarmed.

Finally, Santana reply came, in an unsteady whisper. "I hate last night."

"At least we got through it. It's last night now and not tonight anymore." Brittany ran her fingers through Santana's hair with one hand, while the other stroked her back. "We got through it, San."

"Had another dream that night." Santana admitted, moving even closer to Brittany, seeking the comfort their closeness brought. "They were all there."

"Your parents?" Brittany was all too familiar with Santana's frequent nightmares, and felt remorse over not having been there to wake her from it last night.

"Them and… and the Stick and C-coleman." The stuttered, unsteady voice coming from Santana tightened Brittany's throat. "F-Finn, too. All around me." As Santana described the nightmare, Brittany imagined it, and felt the fear Santana must have experienced. "They kept… hitting me. Again and again."

Thinking about Santana being outnumbered by so many people and being struck down continuously reawakened Brittany's anger. If they ever tried to do that to Santana in real life...

Brittany would make sure they regretted it dearly.

"I couldn't do anything. And they just… would not stop. And everything hurt and all of them hated me." The shudders going through Santana's body grew even stronger. "Just… _again_ and _again_. No one listened. Couldn't make them stop. _It was the scariest fucking thing ever_."

Brittany's left hand stopped stroking Santana's back and clenched into a fist. "They're never going to hurt you again in the Awake World. I'm not going to let them." At this point, Brittany would be willing to consider throwing her qualms about violence right out the window if it meant defending Santana from people who wanted nothing more than to harm her.

"You were in it."

"What did Dream Brittany do?" Hopefully she came swooping in wearing a blue and black-striped dress and with one punch, sent all of Santana's tormentors flying a thousand feet into the air.

Santana's hands found Brittany's shirt and gathered handfuls of the cloth. Clutching it tightly and stretching it, Santana said, "She just… you just… _watched_. You and New Directions and the Troubletones."

Now, Brittany's right hand moved away from Santana's hair to also curl itself into a tightly clenched fist.

"Then you walked away. Left me."

"Santana, please look at me." Brittany forced her fists to unclench, ignoring the sting her fingernails left on her palms. She touched Santana's cheek and met no resistance. Brittany tilted Santana's head up so they could see each other's faces and eyes.

It was hard not to look away. Seeing those watery, sad eyes was painful.

"I won't do that. _Ever_."

"It scared the hell out of me, Britt." Santana said.

Of course it did. For all her ferocity and bravado, Santana wasn't a stranger to fear. And when she felt fear, she felt it at the most trying intensity. Brittany knew that. She also knew that though Santana wasn't explicitly spelling it out, she was telling Brittany that she was afraid of being abandoned.

Abandoned _again_ by someone who she thought loved her.

"Remember when you thought I didn't love you?" Brittany said, recalling their stressful junior year. "When you were convinced that it was just Artie that I had feelings for?"

Santana nodded.

"Remember what I said to you?"

"You got mad and shoved the Lebanese shirt into my hands."

Stroking Santana's cheek and smiling slightly at her selective memory, Brittany decided to spell it out for her since that's what Santana needed to hear most right now. "I said that I _do_ love you. This is just like that time, Santana. I know you're scared, but I know I _do_ love you and I _am_ here for you."

"What if we fight again?"

"There were a few months when we were barely talking to each other." Brittany reminded Santana, "But we were still friends and we still got through it. And we still tried to be there for each other. And don't forget this morning. We hadn't made up yet, but you still killed Coach Sylvester's Mini Sue just because she said something bad about me."

"Of course I would. I said I'd-"

"Always defend me." Brittany finished for Santana and said, "Just like _I'll_ always be here to defend _you_."

"You promise not to leave me?" Santana was pleading, speaking in a small voice and desperate eyes that made her look even smaller. Brittany was given the impression of a child that needed reassurance that there was no monster hiding in the closet.

Guiding Santana up into a somewhat sitting position, with her shoulder leaning against Brittany's and her eyes level with Brittany's. "Do you still remember the things I promised to you last last week?"

Santana's brow furrowed.

"I promised to do everything I can to keep you safe. And I said I promised to hold your hand when you're nervous, wipe your tears when you're crying, hug you and protect you when you're scared, and listen to you when you need someone to talk to. I'm adding to that list that I promise not to ever _ever_ abandon my beautiful unicorn."

At this, Santana's lips twitched slightly in something that was almost a smile. "You've got a pretty damn good memory."

Rubbing her nose against Santana's, Brittany said, "At least one of us has to."

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>Regarding the Brittany-being-outed-as-well issue:

I've thought about that, and the way I see it, and the way I sort of see how the show sort of handles it, Brittany's never really been as in the closet as Santana was. For one thing, Britt openly danced with a girl during their junior prom, and for another, she's talked about kissing majority of the guys and girls in the school as if it's something normal. And then there's the fact that that most of the McKinley population is convinced that Brittany's got low-level intelligence and high-level sex drive.

I tend to think that they view Brittany as just this weird girl who makes out and dances with other girls sometimes but is probably too much of an idiot to know boobs from balls. Since they view Brittany as less than human, but a lot of fun at parties, they kind of disregard the questionable sexuality she's had for as long as anyone can remember.

With that, there may be people who would assume that something's going on between Brittany and Santana. But then we all know how carefully and obsessively Santana tried to hide her sexuality and her feelings for Brittany. If anyone would ask, Santana would beat them senseless or insult them 'till the end of time. And she'd make it crystal clear that they're just best friends who sometimes make out but only to get guys excited.

My conclusion? Brittany was never in the closet, so she couldn't quite be outed. And if it may have been a big deal at one point, that was probably way back in their freshman year or whatever. People are more or less over it by now. People aren't so fussed about Brittany as they are about Santana in particular and Brittana.

That's how I look at it anyway, and it's the context I'm using for this fic.


	18. Chapter 18

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: I wonder if I'm screwing anything up in terms of Brittany and Santana's class schedules. I hardly kept track of when they do or don't have class together, so... yeah... xD

This chapter took a while because I rewrote some scenes entirely, and had to tweak and rearrange stuff until I was finally satisfied with the flow of events. And in the end, I had to extend my (increasingly detailed) outline (again), and now, Chapter 21 is _likely_ to be the last chapter. (which I'm not too pleased with since I'm OC and would prefer a nice number that's a factor of 5, or at least an even number, but oh well) (and I've also been hit by some ideas for a few more mini-arcs, but we'll see if and how I can still tie them into the next couple of chapters)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>

* * *

><p>After experiencing night after night being tormented by her father's rage and her schoolmates' spite, Santana should be used to it by now, but she wasn't.<p>

Every blow was still as startling as the first, still as painful as it was that night in the kitchen. Every shouted word filled with disgust, hate and anger was as barbed as ever, never losing its sharp edge from the constant use. And the fear. Always the same panicked thudding against her chest, the same trembling of her hands, same unsteadiness in her legs, same blockage in her throat keeping coherent words from leaving her lips.

And no matter how much she knew reasoning with them was futile, Santana still kept trying. Trying in the hope of seeing some sort of small flicker of doubt in their eyes, some waver in their voices. Anything that would tell her that they didn't see her as just this vile, insignificant thing to be thrown around, beaten and yelled at.

Well at least last night, Dream Brittany wasn't there to watch from Artie's lap and walk away.

She wasn't there _at all_ though.

_But she's here now. _Santana reminded herself that it was daytime now, and she wasn't going to be visited by her nightmare again in the next several hours. They were in the car on their way to school, not trapped in the kitchen with Mr. and Mrs. Lopez.

From her spot in the passenger seat, Santana studied Brittany's profile. The rounded arc of her forehead fell sharply at the brow to form her deeply set eyes, and from here, it was obvious that something was different.

The skin was darker around her eyes, making them look deeper than they already were. She looked older and… just… different.

There was something about those eyes that told Santana that if the Brittany last year would have done anything and everything to avoid conflict and hide behind the mask of her dumb blond image, _this_ Brittany wouldn't. It seemed like she wouldn't hesitate to get in the middle of any confrontation if she felt like she had to.

And not in the sneaky way that she would have before, taking a person around twists and turns all the while letting them believe that they were taking advantage of her perceived stupidity.

No. This Brittany here looked like she could be direct and fierce if she needed to be.

Santana wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of her was a little intimidated, but another part was just glad to have Brittany on her side. A significant part of her just resented Mr. Lopez, Finn, Bennet, Susan… all of them, for bringing about this change, for pushing Brittany into this. Though Santana couldn't deny that she probably played a part in this change, too.

How did it even happen?

It sort of just snuck up on them. Santana hadn't really noticed until recently.

The realization didn't make her love Brittany any less. How to express that though was another story entirely.

"What?" Brittany took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at Santana.

_Nothing_. Santana almost said it on impulse, but stopped herself and instead met Brittany's eyes, "Thanks." _Thanks for everything._

How the scary intimacy of eye contact used to keep Santana from doing this all the time wasn't so bad now. In fact, she actually liked the feeling of having this connection with someone, and through something that was outwardly so simple, but inwardly meant so much.

Brittany's brow furrowed. "If we're talking about the extra cookie that was on your plate this morning, it was Lord Tubbington that did it. He was convinced that it was a magic cookie that would make you fly."

Caught off guard by this, Santana burst out laughing. Whatever may be different about Brittany now, there were some things that would probably never change.

From behind them, Rory said, "Americans can fly?"

"Santana, if you're going to start flying now like Harry's Aunt Marge in Chamber of Secrets, you better tell me so I can open the door because repairing the roof of a car is really expensive and we might have to cut off Lord Tubbington's gym membership subscription just to pay those kinds of bills."

Prodding Brittany's ribs and making her squirm, Santana said, "No, Britts. Lord T got the recipe wrong, it takes one cookie to glide, and two to actually fly."

The smile on Brittany's face could almost cancel out the older look to her eyes, softening and relaxing them, bringing out the spark that laughter creates. "Just like it takes two of us to fly to the rainbow?"

"I'm nawt followin'." Rory's head popped out from between their seats as he threw one confused glance at each of them.

"It's a Brittana thing, leprechaun," Santana ruffled Rory's hair, ignoring his protests and his attempts to stop her until he retreated back to his spot at the back seat.

At the light turning green, Brittany returned her focus to driving, but whispered to Santana as she was settling back into her seat after dealing with Rory. "Thanks, too, San."

They were using such short, simple words, but Santana was pretty sure that they were both equally aware of how much was behind those words. The gratitude towards each other for staying around and being there for the laughs, the tears and everything in between. The security of being able to depend on each other. The warmth each others' encouragement gave. The admiration in each others' strength.

Whenever insecurity tampered with her perception and whenever fear took control of her mind, Santana just had to remind herself of this. Of how true Brittany had been through all the years. Of how if there was anyone in this world that could be trusted, it was Brittany.

She drew enough comfort from these thoughts to put the negative emotions associated with her father to the back of her mind, and to ease the nervousness she felt at attending Cheerios practice for the first time after about two weeks of being away.

When Brittany parked the car, Rory bid them goodbye and went ahead in a hurry to be in time for the early rehearsals New Directions was having to prepare for Sectionals.

Santana was about to head out in a hurry as well, to avoid agitating Coach Sylvester, who always hated latecomers. But when she noticed that Brittany was making no move to get out immediately, Santana stopped.

"You okay with this?" Brittany asked.

Leaning back against her seat, Santana thought about her answer for a moment since it was something she'd tried not to dwell on since hearing the news yesterday.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to." Brittany unbuckled her seatbelt so she could face Santana more comfortably. "I brought spare clothes in case we changed our minds."

They were wearing their Cheerios uniforms again, and when Santana had first slipped into it this morning, the secure feeling of being reunited with her armor was what she had expected to feel.

What she felt instead was anxiety.

The uniform was from Coach Sylvester, carefully produced to replace the one Santana left in the Lopez house. It should have felt good to wear it again, to have it again.

But it didn't, and Santana was only now trying to figure out why.

"What do you think'll happen?" Santana turned to face Brittany, hoping that maybe she would have an answer. Being the one who was more familiar with maneuvering through the messy, confusing world of emotions, she might know how to sort through this.

"What do you mean?"

Santana wasn't that sure what she meant, really. But she tried to verbalize her thoughts as they came. "You think the ones who hate our rainbow magic or whatever… you think they're really off the team now? Will we be okay being with them again? Will someone try to outnumber us and kick us out again? Will they hate us for making the team suddenly so small? Are they mad at us for leaving then coming back?"

Then the most pressing question of all made itself known. "Will we be _safe_?"

Grasping both of Santana's hands, Brittany said, "I told you that Amanda was working out which Cheerios are blind, and which ones are just lost, and which ones are hiding. I think she did a thorough job of figuring things out and she helped Coach Sylvester clean up the team."

"What if she missed a few?"

Brittany paused for a moment, to think this over.

Meanwhile, Santana started to worry that what happened in the Troubletones choir room when Susan rallied a bunch of haters was going to happen again if they stepped out onto the field this morning.

"If there _are_ still magic-haters around," Brittany said, "They'll be more quiet about it."

"I don't see how…"

"Santana, _think about it_." Brittany urged her, "If they really _really_ valued their spot on the team more than they hate our magic, then they would see the sense in being quiet instead of raising their torches and pitchforks."

Well… that was a good point. If after seeing all the very vocal haters being stripped of their uniform, the more quiet ones wouldn't cause any chaos if they wanted to stay on the team.

With any luck, they'd gradually learn to be more open-minded.

But at the very least, they'd learn to quietly deal with having _a lesbian student as their head cheerleader_.

"And even if I still don't like Coach Sylvester all that much, I think it was really big of her to do this for us, especially after she's been getting trouble from voters and other candidates and frog warlocks about her campaign."

Frog warlocks?

If this was a subtle attempt at distracting Santana from the bad memory of seeing the campaign ad, it was working. Santana could imagine a glowing frog with a beard and a pointy hat and a star-studded robe croaking spells and hopping around.

"Yeah." Santana nodded, "You're right, Britt."

"So… are we doing this?"

Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, Santana said. "Yeah."

They exited the car and headed for the field together, Brittany linking their pinkies until Santana turned it into full-on holding hands. Every single girl on the team knew what was going on between them anyway, and Santana felt a need to be as close to Brittany as possible. Just in case something bad happens.

Just in case she gets kicked out all over again.

As they reached the field and the clump of moving red and white uniforms drew nearer, Santana's anxiety increased to the point of tempting her to turn back and run.

Brittany, sensing this, used her thumb to stroke the back of Santana's hand. "I'll treat you to those chocolate-glazed donuts you love."

"What for?"

"For being such a brave unicorn." Brittany told her, though Santana hardly felt brave at all. She felt more like a coward for wanting nothing more than to run away right now.

When they were finally no more than a few steps away from the Cheerios, they stopped, not sure what to do next. Coach Sylvester wasn't anywhere in sight, heightening Santana's nervousness. Even if being in the presence of that insane woman made Santana uncomfortable, the intimidating power she held would have kept the Cheerios in line if they were planning anything sinister.

Santana tightened her grip on Brittany's hand, the anchor that kept her in place and the source of assurance.

Amanda was the first to step forward, separating herself from the group. The nervousness was obvious in her jerky movements as she looked from the Cheerios to Brittany and Santana. "Hi… um…" The sound that came out of Amanda's mouth was high-pitched and squeaky. Santana would have laughed if she didn't feel so uneasy herself.

Clearing her throat, Amanda tried again, "Brittany. Santana." Another few twitchy glances back and forth, then she continued. "We'd like to apologize for… well… um… _what happened_."

Another girl stepped forward, one Santana vaguely recognized.

"You won't believe how sorry we are about what happened with Susan and Bennet and…" The girl shifted from foot to foot, and that's when Santana recognized her.

She was there when Susan and Bleachhead led a pack of Cheerios to delivering a slushie tidal wave in the parking lot. She was one of the girls that drenched Brittany, Santana and Rory that day.

What was _she_ doing here now?

"She was one of the girls I talked to before Bennet slapped me." Brittany hastily whispered into Santana's ear. "I think she's not so much magic-hating as magic-ignorant."

The girl looked away while Brittany was whispering.

"You don't think she'll drive us out in a couple of weeks?" Santana whispered back.

"We can never really be sure without seeing for ourselves." Brittany answered, "But yeah. I don't think she'd do that."

Santana wasn't sure what to say to this and instead just nodded before looking at the girl in front of them. She was now having a whispered conversation with Amanda, and looked increasingly anxious and uncomfortable.

It was then that Santana remembered that the girl's name was Lisa and that she was a sophomore. Old enough to have a bit of seniority over the freshmen, but still relatively young, enough to still be easily swayed by the older students.

Seeing her hearing out whatever Amanda was saying was interesting though. Santana wasn't sure what to make of that.

After Amanda was done talking to her, Lisa took a step closer to Brittany and Santana. "I won't deny that I'm still uncomfortable with the fact that you two are… are…" Lisa swallowed. "_together_…?" She looked over at Amanda and the other Cheerios, who all nodded for her to continue.

Lisa then turned to Brittany and spoke fast, her words almost blurring into each other. "Brittany, I'm really sorry about the way I spoke to you when you came to the locker room to talk to us."

"You were the one that said we deserved to be bullied." Brittany's tone wasn't so much accusatory as it was matter-of-fact.

"I know…" Was that regret in her tone? "…and I was wrong. And I wouldn't be surprised if neither of you ever forgive me." It was bizarre to be hearing this. Santana wasn't sure if she was actually hearing apologies or just dreaming again. "I just… sometimes, the way Susan and Bethany talk… it's just… it's so _convincing_."

"And then they sound so sure of themselves, so right about the stuff they're saying." Another girl from the group spoke, her voice coming from somewhere in the second row of the clump of Cheerios.

"Yeah, and then it's like… it's like… the way they talk… they manage to make it sound like it makes sense." This was another girl speaking, a redhead to the right.

"Now, a lot of us just… just aren't sure what to think." Lisa continued, looking even more nervous. "But what we _are_ sure of…" She put in the effort to make eye contact with Santana then Brittany. "Is that Santana is our captain and Brittany is our best choreographer. And that's what should matter more than… than whatever you guys do when we aren't practicing or performing."

"And we'll respect both of you because that's what you _do_ deserve." Amanda added.

Brittany's grip on Santana's hand loosened slightly, as if to check if it was okay with her to let go entirely. It wasn't completely, because Santana was still uncomfortable, but if Brittany had something in mind, she shouldn't be kept from going on and doing it.

When Santana's grip loosened in response, Brittany let go, strode over to Amanda and hugged her. "Thank you for all the help and all the magic."

Seeing Amanda hug Brittany back sent prickles of jealousy through Santana. Not the possessive kind that wanted Brittany to herself, but the envious kind that came with the realization that Brittany was always going to be the pleasant one, the friendly one, the favorite. This was just like in New Directions, where everyone was fond of Brittany, but wary of Santana.

She realized that with the Cheerios, it was barely any different. They respected Santana because of her position and her temper. They liked Brittany because she was the spontaneous, fun one. They practically never understood what she was saying, but they enjoyed her company.

"Santana?"

At the sound of her name, Santana looked in the direction of the speaker and recognized one of her batchmates. Emily, who was never around when all the slushie facials and bullying incidents with Susan and Bleachhead would happen.

"What?"

"To make up for isolating you two, we were hoping to have a party this weekend." Emily glanced at Brittany and Amanda, who were now talking, at a distance that suggested being comfortable with each other's presence and closeness. It was nothing like the tense distance between Santana, Emily and Lisa right now. "And…" After hesitating for a moment, Emily brought her hand forward, towards Santana.

The initial reaction would have been to flinch away or grab her wrist and shove her away, but Santana kept herself still until the hand reached her shoulder.

"It'd be great if you two would come. Just… so we can have fun and feel like a team again, y'know?"

There was something weirdly comforting about the touch and the invitation. Like Santana was being accepted. Carefully and cautiously, but still… it was something.

"We were thinking it could be like a welcome back party." Lisa added, taking a step closer.

It was easier to be doubtful about it and try to work out the motives and underlying schemes that may be at work, because Santana wasn't ready to trust these people right now, only to be betrayed all over again later.

But she couldn't deny that this effort they were all putting to welcome them back into the team was relatively convincing, and admittedly… touching.

"Thanks for the invite," Santana said, and just then remembered that Sectionals was this weekend, "But we've got Sectionals coming up on Sunday, and we gots to rehearse like hell."

"Can we come watch?"

_That_ was even less expected.

Santana narrowed her eyes and searched Emily's face for something that would give away any underhanded plan to ruin things. Were they going so they could throw fruit and slushies while the Troubletones perform?

But all Santana could see was sincerity, and that was insanely hard to just believe.

"Er… yeah." Sanana answered, deciding to believe them for now, but still feeling baffled by how bizarre the whole situation was. "Sure."

Arms snaking their way around Santana's waist made it even harder for her mind to process what was going on, followed by Brittany's voice in her ear. "We are _so_ getting those donuts after class. To celebrate this."

* * *

><p>After spending most of her evening tossing and turning in bed, struggling to come to a decision, Quinn was tired and sleep deprived. She completely slept through the insistent ring of her alarm and missed out on the early morning meeting and rehearsal Rachel called for. Additionally, Quinn also managed to be ten minutes late to her first class. It would've been worse if she hadn't driven like a maniac to get to school, all the while texting an apology to Rachel for being absent <em>again<em>.

Class was a blur. Quinn sloppily took notes of keywords and told herself to read up on today's lesson later this evening, maybe after a good cup of coffee.

With a sluggish mind, Quinn's distress about whether or not she should leave New Directions for the Troubletones, and her worry about her absence disappointing Rachel, were probably being blown out of proportion.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Quinn thought it odd for her to be sneaking glances at her phone every five minutes to see if there was any message from Rachel about what happened this morning. Odd that it was such a big deal to be worrying _this much_ about _Rachel Berry_ and _Glee_.

But with the way her distress felt like such an overwhelming issue, Quinn could hardly focus on how strange it was.

She also felt frustrated with herself for doing something as _juvenile_ as oversleeping. The last time this happened was sophomore year, and her _pregnancy_ was the reason. This time, there was no valid reason.

So Rachel couldn't be blamed if she was disgusted with Quinn for having such a lousy excuse for missing the rehearsal.

Just after the bell finally rang to signal the start of lunch break, and Quinn was exiting the classroom, the vibration in her pocket told her that maybe she finally got a reply. In a hurry, Quinn fished out her phone and looked at the screen.

It _was_ Rachel. And she said she wasn't mad. And she wanted to talk to Quinn.

A few more texts later, they agreed to met up in the New Directions choir room. Quinn was the first there, and paced around the room, hoping to walk off the tension. But without much luck. She still felt like a disgusting disappointment for sleeping in. Even though Rachel said she wasn't mad, Quinn's pessimistic, close-to-panic mind kept assuming that Rachel _was_ mad.

Which was why the moment Rachel stepped into view, another apology poured out of Quinn's mouth in a hurry. "I'm sorry for missing this morning's rehearsal I hardly slept last night worrying about the Beth issue and Ms. Corcoran's offer and I know that's not a good excuse and I should've made sure my alarm would wake me and I should have had a back up method of waking up and I'm _really_ sorry."

Instead of the anger Quinn kept expecting, Rachel was smiling as she approached. "_Relax_. I'm not angry with you in the slightest, so don't worry about that anymore."

"But it was a rehearsal and I've missed out on so many already." Through the haze of the depressed phase Quinn just hurdled, it was difficult to remember exactly how many times she ditched New Directions for smoking sessions with the Mack or for drinking time by herself or simply for the sake avoiding people.

Using her calming, patient tone, Rachel said, "I understand that you've been going through some difficulties, and I'm not surprised that it's affected your sleep."

"But aren't you mad I might be ruining New Directions' chances of winning?" Semi-intentionally, Quinn had said _New Directions'_ instead of _our_. After Ms. Corcoran's offer, Quinn couldn't be sure anymore which team she was going to be performing with this weekend.

Rachel ran a finger through the piano keys and stopped at the last key. "I'm aware of the fact that barely two weeks ago, not for the first time, I was blinded by my ambition and my drive to win." With her eyes focused on the piano, it seemed that Rachel was avoiding looking at Quinn. "I put those before concern for Santana, and I ignored the voice in my head that told me you were in trouble, too."

"Well…" Quinn bit her lip. Well what? She didn't know what to say next.

"Then when we spoke in front of your locker, I saw you up close." Now, Rachel looked up from the piano and faced Quinn. "You were bothered. More than you were letting on. A-and-and I… I realized that I was doing it again."

"Doing… what again?"

"Forgetting that there are more important things."

Not quite sure she was following the direction Rachel was going, Quinn frowned and tried to process it. If Rachel was thinking about something that happened two weeks ago, would she be comparing Quinn's most recent absence this morning with the first time it happened? That time being when Quinn asked for another chance from Ms. Corcoran and was rejected.

This wasn't the same… was it?

"I…" Quinn tried again at speaking, but found herself stuck. Again.

After giving Quinn some time to try picking up where she abruptly ended her attempt to talk, Rachel said, "Quinn, I won't claim to know how you feel since I've never given birth myself, and my own relationship with my birthmother is strained at worst, confusing at best."

But they were close enough for Rachel to actually get Ms. Corcoran to give Puck and Quinn another chance. That was something that still gave Quinn a thrill of joy and surprise and a flicker of worry and doubt just as if it was the first time she'd heard the news.

"But I try to understand how… hard it must be to go through the things that you go through." Rachel said, "Which is why I really don't feel any anger or resentment towards you for missing this morning's rehearsal. I'm not going to forget that there are more important things than just another competition."

"_Thank you_." Now, Quinn had something to say. Two simple words that most appropriately and most concisely embodied what she felt. She really wished she could elaborate more on it though, but there weren't quite enough words to describe it.

Rachel just shrugged.

"No, I mean… _really_, Rachel." Again, there was that little voice in Quinn's head that commented on how weird it was to feel so grateful to Rachel. "_Thank you_."

There should be more after that. Where was her eloquence? Now would be an appropriate time for it to come help her. Quinn brushed her bangs back and chewed on her bottom lip, as if the habits would somehow turn the mix of emotions into useable words.

"Thank you for talking to me and… _listening_ to me. Every time." Quinn remembered how it was in this very room, she was having a breakdown, kicking things around, and instead of reacting with outrage, Rachel had offered a shoulder to cry on, and listened without judgement. "And for talking to Shelby."

If Rachel hadn't talked Ms. Corcoran into giving Quinn yet another chance… Well she probably wouldn't be here right now, but instead under the bleachers, crawling her way back into the Skanks, or passed out somewhere at home after drinking and crying all night.

"I don't know what you said to her, but whatever it is… it _worked_." Quinn said, "And I don't know how I could ever repay you for that."

Now, Rachel was smiling again. "You don't have to, you know. It's just what we do because we're kind of friends, right?"

"Right." Quinn said, returning the smile and feeling warmed by how the path this conversation took was able to ease one of the worries that plagued her all morning.

Until the worry that plagued her all evening demanded attention.

"What's wrong?" Again, Quinn managed to hide her emotions from most of the world, but was almost completely transparent with Rachel. Would Santana, Brittany or Mercedes have been able to notice a change in mood so easily?

Brittany might. She was really observant when it came to other people's emotions, something that sometimes caused Quinn to avoid her whenever she wasn't in the mood to talk about her most recent argument with Finn or Sam, back in the day. Mercedes might, too. She was one of the few people who could tell that under the intense anger Quinn felt during her pregnancy, she also had a lot of pain to deal with.

Santana? Quinn wasn't sure since if there was anyone that was worse at dealing with emotions than she was, it was Santana.

The three of them, Quinn successfully avoided so that they wouldn't see through her mask. Rachel though… just wouldn't stop trying to get through every locked door and barbed fence.

There was really no point in trying to hide the dilemma from Rachel. Quinn found herself opening up. Again. "Besides giving Puck and I another chance with Beth… Shelby also said I could… join the Troubletones. And… I've been thinking about it…"

When Rachel didn't say anything right away, Quinn wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. She could be patiently waiting for Quinn to explain herself further, or she could be holding back disappointment and anger.

The uncertainty started to escalate into panic, and Quinn tried to give voice to the thoughts that had plagued her all evening, "I feel like I've been a horrible friend to Santana and Brittany lately, and I thought that joining the Troubletones could be… sort of step towards closing the gap I've made. And I feel like I'd be a hypocrite if after I've been urging so many people to be more concerned about Santana, I myself have actively avoided her at a time when she most needed friends."

"So… you'd like to join the Troubletones to be closer to Santana and Brittany?" Rachel asked the question as if she was clarifying it.

Quinn nodded, and added, "Mercedes, too. I haven't been much of a friend to her, either. I really… I really think that by joining the Troubletones, I could show Shelby that she could trust me, and I could also show Brittany, Santana and Mercedes, that I'm really going to be there for them now."

Those were all the points under the list of reasons why she should join the Troubletones. There was still the matter of staying with New Directions. Quinn went into that next.

"But I feel like I'd be betraying you… and New Directions if I just left. Especially since we're still not even exactly twelve members. It seems really selfish of me to just quit and go to the Troubletones."

After saying her piece, Quinn ended with, "I don't know what to do."

"It seems pretty clear to me."

Raising an eyebrow, Quinn wondered if Rachel was being serious or sarcastic. "Come again?"

"You should be with the Troubletones." Rachel delivered the statement as if it were a proven fact meant to be common sense by now.

Joy at having the approval of both Rachel and Mercedes excited Quinn, but before letting it get too far, she wanted to be completely sure. "It's really okay for me to leave New Directions?" She _had_ to get it right this time.

Rachel's weight shifted, as if she was going to step forward but hesitated. "I… I-I'll admit that... that I'll miss seeing you in this choir room." Before Quinn could fully process this and respond, Rachel quickly added, "But it's not like we can't visit, right? Besides, I understand that you _are_ better off in the Troubletones, with Santana, Brittany, Mercedes and Shelby. And if Finn tries to turn this into a problem, I'll talk to him and convince him that this is how it's supposed to be."

Now, Quinn could no longer bottle the bubbling joy. She released it and didn't fight back the grin that spread over her face.

As if pushing back her reservations and deciding to stop hesitating, Rachel rushed forward, and before Quinn could react, gave her a hug.

And as they hugged, Quinn realized that it wasn't strange that she felt so attached to Rachel now, this Berry girl, who'd suffered so much abuse from Quinn, but still manage to be one of the truest friends.

It was Rachel who went after Quinn during the disastrous prom night. It was Rachel who urged Quinn back to glee club whenever she strayed away. Rachel who always reminded Quinn that she was welcome in the choir room. Rachel who saw through the walls Quinn built around herself and coaxed her out. Rachel who listened whenever Quinn was on the verge of breaking down and needed to open up about her fears, insecurities and anxieties. Rachel who helped Quinn remember to believe in herself.

And finally, it was Rachel who got Ms. Corcoran to give Beth's birth parents another chance.

It wasn't odd for Quinn to feel attached to Rachel at all.

What was odd was for Rachel to be so reliable and… _nice_ to Quinn.

Quinn couldn't understand why Rachel was this way to the girl who tormented her throughout most of her high school life. But Quinn felt really damn grateful about it.

When she pulled away, Rachel was smiling with… what was that? Happiness? Something similar, but not quite that, not exactly.

Pride?

Was Rachel Berry proud of her?

"Would you like to sit with us for lunch?" Rachel asked. "With Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie and Blaine." With a short laugh, she added, "I need another girl at the table with me to balance out all that testosterone."

Amused, Quinn nodded to show that she accepted the offer. "Wouldn't Blaine be eating with Kurt?" As far back as Quinn could remember, those two never spent lunch break apart ever since Blaine transferred.

"Kurt's attending to some documents Figgins asked for." Rachel answered as they headed for the cafeteria together, "I offered to help, but he said he could handle it."

"It sounds like the Bully Whips will be revived soon." The sooner the better. Though Santana and Brittany were back in their Cheerio uniforms, and Coach Sylvester had been careful to remove the hostile students from the team, it was too soon to let their guard down. The campaign ad that outed Santana was still being played on television screens regularly, even if Coach Sylvester had also promised to arrange for it to be banned.

If Coach Sylvester was really serious about getting the commercial taken down, she'd be using all the excess Cheerios funds to pay for the best people to get the task done immediately.

"I'm excited about it, really." Rachel paused to stand on the tips of her toes and search through the crowd of eating students. When she finally caught sight of Finn and the others, she led the way over. "It's a splendid idea that I hope will really help give Santana and Brittany a safer environment."

"Quinn!" Upon seeing her, Artie hardly gave Quinn the time to sit down before firing his question at her, "I've been talking to Tina, and I think she's got a point. Shouldn't we be reporting what happened to Santana? I mean that's abuse, and I dunno about y'all, but that ain't right." Artie accompanied this statement with gestures from his gloved hands.

"Rory _did_ say she was really banged up when Brittany picked her up." Behaving in the same uneasy way that he did when they last saw each other, Finn could barely look at Quinn, and spoke in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

"I think it should be up to Santana." Blaine said. "Doing something like that is bound to be stressful, and I kind of think she has enough to worry about now without having to deal with discussing her parents with social workers and officials and whatnot."

"Is it really like… that tedious?" Artie asked.

"Either way, her parents shouldn't be allowed to get away with treating her so unfairly." Sam said, "I mean gay or not, she's still their daughter, right?"

"Well not all parents can be as open-minded as Kurt's dad." Blaine spoke so softly, Quinn thought she must have been the only one who heard everything he said since she was sitting next to him.

Seeing that Artie and Sam looked ready to argue, Quinn said, "We've been through this already, and I stand by the conclusion we came to last time. It's not up to us."

"But-"

"It's done now." Quinn reinforced the point before any more arguments could be made. "She's not living with them anymore. I think that at least for now, that'll do." The way Quinn saw it, what mattered most at the moment was that Santana was safe with the Pierces and away from the Lopezes.

Picking up on Quinn's perspective, Blaine nodded in agreement and said, "And it's not like he's actively seeking her out and regularly harassing her. Bringing this up with officials is just going to stir everything up again."

At this, Sam and Artie didn't instantly give their rebuttals, instead taking the time to digest what Blaine and Quinn said. From the way Sam's jaw was set, it was clear that he didn't like it at all. His silence though showed that he was able to understand their reasons.

Though none of them would probably ever be completely sure about what was the right or wrong thing to do in this case, Quinn felt that focusing on protecting Santana instead of punishing her parents made the most sense.

It wasn't that Quinn thought that those people didn't deserve to face dire consequences for doing this to someone they supposedly cared about, because she _did_ want to see some form of justice served. Now that she could stand to think about things outside of the Beth spectrum, Quinn was getting flashes of how Santana looked that Saturday.

Her eye had been swollen and riddled with splotches of purple, which just couldn't be possible unless it was hit by a deliberate strike with every intention of inflicting pain. There had also been a moment when Santana had winced when her back hit Brittany's bedside table. At the time, Quinn had brushed it off and assumed that Santana was just overreacting. Now that she was thinking about it and looking back, Quinn had a feeling that there may have been more bruises than just the evident ones she saw that day.

It was horrible how there were parents who could just treat their children badly and get away with it.

But sometimes, that's just the way it is, isn't it?

Quinn remembered her own father, who she hadn't seen in nearly two years. And she hoped she wouldn't _ever_ have to see him again.

No doubt he'd seen the campaign ad, and if he'd been sober enough to pay any attention to his daughter's life, Mr. Fabray would have remembered that the head cheerleader in question was one of the girls who used to sleepover frequently.

The thought of her father got Quinn to see another part of the Santana issue, and she shared it with the others. "Another thing to consider is that Mr. Lopez is a doctor. Not the average person in Lima, right? So it's likely that he has ways of wriggling out of trouble if we don't plan things out carefully."

"I see your point, Quinn." Rachel said, "If they're anywhere near as image-conscious as Santana has been, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez would be engaging in some damage control right now, and might have even prepared convincing excuses and accounts in case they're confronted."

"Still sucks that there's not much we can do." Sam poked at his food with his fork and moved it around the plate. It was as if the topic of conversation had caused him to lose his appetite. "I mean the more I think about it, the more I wish I could rough him up a bit just so he'll know how it feels."

It was alarming to hear this from Sam, who Quinn had always thought of as a really gentle, good-natured guy. Did he change since he was last here? Or was this a really sensitive issue for him? Or did he really care that much about Santana?

As far as Quinn could recall, Sam didn't have any girlfriends after Santana. Was it possible that he still had unresolved feelings for her? Or was he just being a really passionate, protective friend?

Things might have turned out differently if Sam had been here when everything started. Quinn suspected that it might not have taken this long for New Directions to take action, judging by how disturbed and involved Sam was now.

"Sam, as much as I detest Santana's parents right now, I stand by my belief that violence isn't the answer." Rachel said, "Besides, if you started a fight with him now, you might miss Sectionals." Upon hearing this, everyone at the table stared at Rachel.

Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel was being serious, or had just made a really bad attempt at lightening the mood. Either way, Quinn thought it best to divert people's attention from Rachel. "There's still the Bully Whips plan. That's something, Sam. We'll be able to protect Santana."

"I still think it's a really stupid idea and it's gonna blow up in your faces." After focusing on his food and keeping out of the discussion, Puck finally gave his input.

Before anyone could respond, Azimio, who had come up behind them unnoticed, overturned a plate of spaghetti, covering Blaine in noodles and sauce. "I like the new look, fairyboy! Do that with your gelhead more often!"

Laughing with the other football jocks that had taken Karofsky's place, Azimio walked off.

* * *

><p>Safe.<p>

Santana had asked if they would be _safe_.

After Geography drilled through Brittany's brain and dulled the happy effect of being accepted by the Cheerios again, she found her mind going back to the conversation in the car. She remembered Santana's apprehensions about heading out to the field this morning, her question of whether or not they would be safe.

Honestly, Brittany no longer saw how it could even be remotely possible for them to be _safe_ _in this school_. Heck, she doubted they could ever truly be safe _in this town_.

They may be safe in the Pierce house, welcomed by loving parents and a secure environment. But the moment they stepped outside, they were in a world where unicorns were hidden or abused, or they experience having their horns forcefully broken off; where bicorns were sluts that got no respect; where being different was a death wish.

The recent development with the Cheerios probably meant that for now, they wouldn't have to worry so much about bumping into Susan, Bennet and their minions at every corner. But the rest of the school wasn't accounted for. A Cheerio uniform might not be enough to protect them anymore.

After eighteen years of looking for the magic and seeing little sparks here and there, but hardly enough to trump the darkness, Brittany was finally starting to see that this was not a place where they could be safe. They could try all they want to protect each other and look out for each other, but at the end of the day, the fact remained that it just wasn't accepted in this place.

They really were better off leaving and being in New York or any other place where it was at least a little more _okay_ to bethere than _here_.

In the meantime though… they were stuck here and had to deal with it.

Brittany thought that maybe she could start a change if she won as President.

Maybe, she could. A little.

For starters, she'd somehow succeeded in getting a number of the Cheerios to think twice about their unicornphobic views, and that was amazing!

But what would happen after graduation? Brittany had doubts about whether or not the changes she could make were going to last. There were still all the parents and all the politicians and all the higher, more powerful people that would stomp it out.

It was an unbearably pessimistic thought.

Next to her, Santana was eating well, looking significantly calmer than usual. Though she still had her doubts and suspicions, she was letting her guard down just enough to be able to relax and breathe.

Brittany liked seeing this Santana.

This Santana, despite being deathly afraid of hoping because it led to disappointment and pain, was allowing herself to hope just a little bit, allowing herself to trust just a little bit.

How could Brittany give up trying to instigate change in McKinley High School for this totally awesome unicorn?

From across the cafeteria, Rachel was picking spaghetti out of Blaine's hair, until eventually, Sam stood up and took Blaine with him, probably to go to the bathroom and help him clean up.

Santana wasn't the only one that could benefit from a little change.

"Hey, Britt."

Looking away from Sam and Blaine's exiting figures, Brittany turned her attention to Santana. "Was there a mouse in your food?"

Going straight the point, Santana said, "Over there."

Following the direction Santana's eyes were focused on, Brittany saw a table where Susan and all the other former Cheerios were seated together, now wearing casual clothes. None of them looked happy.

Actually, they were _glaring_.

"Kinda makes me uneasy." Santana admitted, though in a whispered voice that was meant for only Brittany.

"They're just bitter about what happened." Brittany whispered back while Mercedes was distracted by just another one of those weird things Sugar does or talks about.

Santana nodded, and went back to eating. "Yeah. Probably nothing to worry about."

Despite saying that out loud, Brittany could see that Santana was _still_ worried.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go talk to Shane," Mercedes thankfully and unintentionally saved them from dwelling on the worry. "You don't have to wait up for me. I might take a while."

"Is this about the… Sam thing?" Brittany asked, just to be sure.

With a nod, Mercedes said, "Yeah. I'm gonna… tell him about my decision. Then I'm gonna talk to Sam." The huge breath she took was obvious in the rise of her shoulders and chest. Brittany couldn't blame her. This was a difficult, scary thing that Mercedes was going to do. Something Brittany herself handled badly in the past, thanks to her crippling fear of conflict and confrontation.

"Good luck, Wheezy." Santana patted Mercedes's hand. "Tell us how it goes later."

"You'll get through it." Brittany said with a smile that she hoped would reassure Mercedes.

After briefly thanking them, Mercedes left.

Then it wasn't long before Sugar left as well, saying that she was going to discuss arrangements with several freshmen that might be interested in joining. The extent of that interest wasn't something that Sugar went into detail about, but Brittany had a feeling that they were going to be paid, too.

Brittany was glad they were getting members now, and she was thankful to Sugar for being so good at helping them get closer to the required number of members. However, she worried that people who were being paid to participate wouldn't be as passionate as people who were joining because they couldn't keep the music inside of them.

But with how they were still on unsteady ground right now in terms of their social status, Brittany saw the necessity in their paid members.

Still, she hoped that after another month or so, when Santana's outing might not be such a hot topic anymore, and after the Cheerios win the next competition, and (hopefully) after the Troubletones have won Sectionals and maybe performed during some pep rally or another, it would be easier to attract more sincere members.

"I think it's really cool that Mercedes is handling this without any cheating or lying." Santana changed the direction Brittany's thoughts were going, bringing it right back to the Mercedes issue.

"Yeah…" Brittany agreed, "She's handling it better than we did."

A lot better.

"That feels like _ages_ ago." Santana said, "And we've changed a hell of a lot since then."

That was such an accurate statement. Brittany remembered how angry she felt towards Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, Finn, Josh Coleman, the hockey jocks and Susan and Bennet's group. It was the kind of anger that festered and just wouldn't fade away. She might forget to think about it sometimes, but it was still _there_.

Did Santana notice the change? If she had, was she bothered by it?

"Is that bad?"

"Not necessarily." Santana sensed Brittany's discomfort, and immediately tried to reassure her. "Hey. We've both changed in the past couple of years, but what's never gonna change is the fact that we love each other. You've said that a few times. And it's true. Right?"

It helped to hear this. "Right." Brittany said, and added, "It's truer than the fact that Lord Tubbington's addicted to smoking."

"Truer than the fact that he keeps weed under his basket."

"Yeah." Brittany grinned, loving just how well Santana could understand her.

* * *

><p>After Sam and Blaine left for the restroom, Puck turned on Finn, "Shouldn't you be doin' something, <em>fearless leader<em>?"

Though he'd said that he was going to try to improve his grades and attendance record to be able to see Beth again, Puck was clearly still on the edge. He'd been moody and irritable through their lunch break, and Quinn didn't like it.

It was possible that he resented being monitored so closely by Rachel, who frequently nagged him to attend their rehearsals. And he probably didn't enjoy having to watch his behavior. Puck rarely took it well when he was told what to do, and at the moment, Quinn and Rachel were telling him to stop messing up his life.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Finn, taking the comment as an insult, glared at Puck.

Barely paying any attention to Finn's retort, Puck diverted his attention to Rachel. "You've been all over me shaping up, why aren't you giving Finn hell for just sitting there?"

"Dude, calm down." Artie said.

"I-I think you should just take a deep breath, Noah, and calm down a little."

"_Calm down_?" Puck's fists clenched. "How can I fucking calm down when a douche like Azimio can get away with still treating us like shit? This morning, he fucking laughed at me and said I must be gay coz my dick wasn't enough for Santana."

Rachel brought a hand towards Puck's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but he jerked away from her. "And instead of punching his fucking face off, I just stood there coz getting caught fighting in school would mean I'm not gonna get to see my daughter again."

Quinn suspected that this was the reason Puck had been so moody today. For Azimio to just get away with humiliating Puck… the feeling of powerlessness must have been infuriating. As Puck had all but pointed out, the risk of getting caught wasn't worth it. He really wanted to see Beth again. Choosing not to get into a fight was a pretty big step, and Quinn found herself feeling kind of proud of him for that.

He may still be frustrating to spend time with, and annoyingly pessimistic, but there was no doubt in Quinn's mind that Puck was putting in effort to keep his record clean from now on. The understanding of this made her feel less irritated with him and more sympathetic.

"So you want _me_ to fight your battles for you?" Unsurprisingly, Finn missed the point by miles.

"I'm saying you should step up and own up to all your talk about bein' a better man." Finn was only making things worse and making Puck angrier. If Rachel didn't knock some sense into Finn soon, Quinn was going to take the matter into her own hands. "That's what you told me when you bugged me to come back to your stupid glee club. Well I'm starting to think you've got no fucking idea what being a man means anyway."

"Oh and you _do_?"

"Hey at least I don't go around outing girls with crappy fag-hating parents." Puck's temper was rising higher and higher. He sounded now like he was just looking for a fight and getting into one with Finn would relieve the unresolved tension he still had from his encounter with Azimio. Quinn was feeling less sympathetic towards him and more exasperated by both of the guys.

"Like getting girls pregnant is any better."

Lifting her tray, Quinn slammed it against the table as hard as she could. The resulting bang caught the attention of everyone seated there. "Quit it, you guys. Puck, it's great that you didn't beat the crap out of Azimio for Beth's sake, but taking it out on Finn's not gonna solve anything."

Not giving Finn time to say anything smug, because he probably was tempted to, Quinn said, "And _you_." Quinn stood up and almost let loose a string of insults that referred to his unbearably limited capacity to understand _anything_. "I don't even _know_ what to say to you."

She looked at Rachel. "Just… just _handle_ him."

"_I'll_ deal with Azimio." To keep herself from losing her temper completely and saying something to them that she might later regret, Quinn left the table. The temptation to criticize Rachel for having such poor choice in guys had become difficult to ignore, and Quinn was still thinking rationally enough to know that here and now wasn't the appropriate time or place to bring up something like that.

Where _was_ Azimio now?

Quinn really needed an outlet right now, and giving Azimio hell for what he did to Blaine sounded like a really good idea, so she went straight to the nearest jock in a letterman jacket. "Azimio. Where is he?"

At her confrontational voice, the jock's eyebrows rose. "Er… I saw him heading for the locker room… um… why…?"

Seeing no point in prolonging conversation and answering his question, Quinn headed for the football team's locker room, ignoring the shocked faces of the few guys that managed to be here instead of the cafeteria.

"Yo, girls and gays ain't allowed in here." How convenient it was that Azimio made himself easy to find by going straight to her the moment he saw her. "Tell that to Puckerwoman, would you?"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"With Puckerwoman or with spaghettihead?"

Quinn ignored the hoots and hollers of the surrounding jocks and said, "_Both_. I mean haven't you got better, more important things to do?"

Casually shrugging as if he saw no wrong in the things he did, Azimio said, "Hey, it's they own fault, choosin' to be gay an' all. I'm just playin' my part, y'know."

"It's not a choice, idiot." Sometimes, Quinn wondered how some of the people in this school successfully got past elementary.

"Why? You gay too? I mean _daamn_, first it was lady," Azimio started counting off his list with his fingers, "Then he brought his new boy over here, and then now, even the Cheerios are a bunch of dykes, too. Like man, this school is gettin' _way_ messed up. How we gonn' get laid when the girls would rather fuck each other an' the guys wanna stuff their hands in our pants?"

The jocks, hanging onto every word, were nodding and voicing their agreement. Azimio wore an unbearably smug smile that made Quinn want to slap it off his face herself. "So it's my job now to stay on top o' the food chain an' fix this shit an' put you gay kids in your place."

As if they had just heard the most inspiring speech in their lives, the jocks pumped their fists in the air and cheered.

"I'm surprised you actually made it to your senior year when you've got the most pitiful intelligence I've ever had the displeasure of encountering." Were people like Azimio really worth talking to anymore? They simply seemed too set on what they believed to be open to anyone else's ideas. Quinn didn't feel like bothering to try convince him otherwise anymore.

The insult seemed to amuse Azimio more than it stung him. "Hey Fabgay, I'mma have to apologize for this."

Apologize? Quinn raised her eyebrow and looked him up and down as he took several steps closer to her. There was nothing in his expression or stance that suggested that he really had any sincere apology planned. And Quinn couldn't see Azimio saying sorry to Puck or Blaine anytime soon.

"This ain't slushie, but it's close enough." By the time Quinn realized what was happening, it was too late for her to move away. "SODA TIME!"

The remaining contents of the can of soda were emptied over Quinn's head.

* * *

><p>A year ago, forgiving people was a viable option.<p>

Now?

As she left her last class for the day and headed for Troubletones rehearsal, Brittany could only think of a few of the people who'd recently offended them that were worth forgiving. Emily, Lisa and the several Cheerios that stayed, Brittany could see that most of them just hadn't been sure of what to believe or think, and wound up being swayed by Bennet and Susan's certainty. There were two or three though that still didn't approve of Santana and Brittany, but were willing to look beyond that and prioritize the Cheerios as a whole.

It was still wrong for the Cheerios to follow Bennet and Susan so blindly, but Brittany couldn't blame them, since she could still remember the times when she'd play along with Santana and Quinn's schemes despite some of them feeling wrong.

New Directions, too. Brittany still resented most of them for thinking that she couldn't understand Santana's situation. But they couldn't completely be blamed for making the assumption since Brittany herself sometimes purposely did and said things that perpetuated the dumb slut image.

Rory, Sugar, Mercedes, they'd all apologized, and Brittany had forgiven them. The others had yet to. The lack of any apology from them was probably what was bothering Brittany more now than what they'd assumed during the choir room Santervention. She just wanted to hear them apologize. Then there would be no more hard feelings.

Quinn though…

Brittany was as disappointed as she was irritated. One would think that after saying she'd be a better friend, that Quinn would actually be more available and understanding, instead of just coming back into their lives out of nowhere.

After Quinn was actually the first person Brittany called amidst the panic of picking Santana up on the night she was kicked out, after Quinn calmed Brittany through it and after spending time with them that weekend… it was a foul blow for Quinn to accuse Brittany of not understanding the gravity of Santana's situation.

Was Quinn high or wasted on those few times they spoke to each other on those several days immediately following the night Santana came out to her parents? Brittany could hardly think of any other plausible explanation for Quinn to just forget it all.

That was something that would have to be addressed before Brittany could begin to really feel at ease with Quinn again. An explanation to accompany the apology. Assuming Quinn was even planning to give one.

Really, if she took the time to think about it, Brittany found it bizarre for her to be so picky about forgiving people now. She was a lot less patient and lenient than she was a year ago. Which couldn't be surprising, since a year ago, Santana was still living with her parents and cared for by them. And they were both still the most popular girls in school, despite being in glee club.

"Miss Brittany Pierce, I've got a few questions for you." Jacob Ben Israel came hurrying over to Brittany, blocking her path towards the Troubletones choir room. "As a presidential candidate, you're kind of required to answer these."

Feeling significantly less tolerant than usual, Brittany resisted the urge to roll her eyes and forced herself to answer politely, "What questions? Do any of them have to do with the latest episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic?"

Jacob flashed a look of combined confusion and exasperation before taking out his recorder. "Viscious rumors have been circulating, and there are some highly interesting ones that have been posted as comments throughout my blog."

This didn't sound good. It didn't even sound like it had anything to do with Brittany's campaign. "Is it true that you're still exceptionally easy to hook up with?"

Now _that_ was a foul blow. Since getting together with Artie, Brittany had put a stop to all the casual sex because she'd realized that with feelings, it's better. Doing it casually was like eating sugar-free cookies compared to eating genuinely amazing milk chocolate chip cookies.

Brittany took a deep breath and stopped the words of outrage from leaving her mouth. She chose to stay silent and refrain from answering the question.

Oblivious to this, Jacob went onto his next question after a short pause, "I'll put your answer down as a _maybe_. Next question is in regards to your union with Santana, which has been debated upon to be referred to as either Santittany or Brittana. Regardless of the name, the question is whether or not the two of you are open to threesomes?"

"Like Lord Tubbington is open to taking a shower with lava." If Brittany spent a minute longer with this guy, she was going to lose it. His questions were infuriatingly inappropriate. If Santana were here, Jacob would be on the floor and covered in bruises by now.

Continuing to block her way when she tried to step around him, Jacob said, "Since there was ambiguity in your answer, I'll put that down as a _maybe_ as well." Was there no intelligence under all that frizzy, wiry fuzz growing out of his head? Brittany didn't want to hear anymore of his questions, but he still kept going on. "Some guys have posted on my blog stating that they're tempted by the challenge."

"_Challlenge_?" Brittany repeated the word, repulsed.

"Indeed! A few have already started placing bets on which McKinley man has the highest chances of straightening out both of you girls in a threesome."

_That_ was disgusting. Brittany almost gagged at the thought and would have thrown up then and there if she wasn't starting to fill up with anger more than revulsion.

"What do you have to say to that, future President Pierce?" Jacob said, "Especially after Mr. Noah Puckerman was clearly not man enough to fix either of you? Is he perhaps as gay as everyone in every glee club?"

Brittany had heard enough.

Without thinking, she let her anger take over. Her hand shot forward, grabbed Jacob by his hair and pulled him close. The sudden action had caught him by surprise, and several students along the hallway stopped to see what was going on.

They could think whatever they wanted. All Brittany was focused on right now was Jacob Ben Israel, who was starting to shiver violently. "You'll leave me alone or I'll burn your Jewish cloud hair while kicking you right where you keep the black magic that entertains you at night."

Tightening her grip, Brittany brought his ear closer to her mouth and whispered while he whimpered. "And don't forget Santana's threat. If you do anything to hurt my campaign, she _is_ going to go after you and I am _not_ going to stop her."

"I'll drop the topic and delete the comments, just please don't hurt me!" Jacob all but wailed the plea at the top of his lungs.

There was a wave of this burning temptation to slam his head against the nearest locker, and Brittany actually _considered_ the idea.

Then the thought of how Santana would react crossed Brittany's mind. Those dark eyes were going to be full of… what? If they saw this, it might be with horror. Or fear. Or disappointment. Or… would she be mad?

None of those would be good.

Brittany released Jacob and as she watched him scurry away, realized that she was breathing in and out in rapid, ragged gasps.

So.

Close.

She had been _this_ close to doing something unbelievably violent. Something that was with every intention of inflicting pain and punishment. And she barely even hesitated. She already had him in her grasp and at her mercy. It wouldn't have taken that much effort. She was an athlete with above-average strength. He was an out-of-shape slob. It would have been _so_ easy.

And… he… he would have deserved it.

Didn't he?

Right…?

Brittany felt her trembling legs getting weaker, and to stay up, she stumbled over to the locker and leaned against it for support. This would have been the very surface that she was going to slam Jacob's head into.

It wouldn't have done any permanent damage, especially considering how thick his disgusting hair was. But it _would_ hurt. Considering how sore Brittany's knuckles had been after she'd punched the locker instead of Finn's face two weeks ago, then such an impact would have hurt Jacob very much.

And she really almost did that.

Brittany was starting to feel lightheaded.

She wasn't getting enough air.

The hallway was starting to sway and tilt.

"Hey, Pierce. You okay?" Judging by the tone being used, Brittany figured that the question wasn't sincere. "Lookin' a little pale there."

Susan. Of course.

Though her head was still heavy and clouded, her body unsteady and her breathing uneven, Brittany looked down at the troublesome sophomore and said, "What…. What do you want now?" The panic and horror of how brutal she had been about to treat Jacob was still making Brittany breath in gasps, and she still kept seeing flashes of Santana's face if she had seen that.

"Did you finally grow a bit of a backbone?" Susan taunted while the four girls at her side moved to position themselves around Brittany.

Surrounding. It was always that they had to _surround_ a person. They probably knew how nervous it could make a person. Right now, Brittany could feel her heart, already worked up from the Jacob incident, beating even faster at this encounter.

"Okay, since you're too retarded to say anything right now, I'll do the talking." Susan began with the same half-smile and smug expression, but it twisted into a repulsed face. It was more tensed and intimidating, but compared to the smiling one, this looked more natural. "You dykes better enjoy fucking in the locker room while you still can, coz that's not gonna last long."

_Why? You jealous?_ Brittany would have said it if she hadn't been too focused on trying to inhale enough air.

"You're gonna _regret_ kicking us out." Susan continued, "Bennet might be wasting time right now moping and crying about her shit choices, but _me_," The circle of Cheerios around Brittany shrank, tightening around her and making it even harder to breathe.

Just remember to breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Susan further invaded Brittany's bubble of personal space, locking her in place with eye contact that showed every bit of the hate and disgust. "Me, I'm gonna do whatever it takes to make sure you and your fuck buddy fall off your pedestals again. You're gonna fall and fall _hard_." Dropping her voice to a whisper, Susan delivered the last part of her threat, "And this time, you're staying down."

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>Lol this week's Midterms week, and after that, I've also got some IRL stuff to attend to, so we'll see how long it'll take to finish the next chapter. And also, you might notice that from here on out, Susan and Bennet/Bleachhead will be less interchangeable, because I'll dig a little deeper into the differences between them. They might have been almost the same when they fought under one flag, but now that they're going different paths, I got the chance to develop them a little more.


	19. Chapter 19

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Lol, okay so the latest last chapter will be Chapter 22. (which I prefer since it's an even number and I'm somewhat fond of that number, but whatever yeah I know I'm OC about these things)

Oh, and be warned, in the footnote, I go into detail about some random thoughts I've had about the Mack and about Rory.

Also, I went back and tweaked the first several chapters because I'm appalled by how many times I wrote "the Latina." Enough to feel like my eyes were burning like dammit I can't believe how many times I did that.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen<strong>

* * *

><p>After spending a quick five minutes trying to clean out her hair, Quinn had to give up on it and rush to class. By the time she was dismissed and on her way to the Troubletones choir room, her mood had plummeted further. The dirty, gross feeling to her hair was the most shallow problem, but it managed to make an impact on her mood nevertheless. And she would really <em>love<em> to be given the chance to get back at Azimio.

The fact that Puck had actually resisted the impulse to attack that idiotic jock was all the more impressive in the face of what Quinn had just experienced. Puck may still be sulky and uncooperative around New Directions, but he should be given credit for his self-control.

As she continued walking, Quinn's lingering anger at Azimio transitioned into anxiety and apprehension at the prospect of what was to come. There was going to be an apology to Brittany and Santana, and then a request to join the Troubletones. It would be amazing if Quinn were to both be forgiven and accepted into the club in one go.

But she wasn't too sure about how realistic such a thought could be. After seeing Brittany lose her temper that day, Quinn had dreaded encountering _that_ Brittany again.

And now, she was walking straight into a situation that could very well trigger and summon that side of Brittany if Quinn didn't tread carefully. All hell could break lose if both Brittany and Santana got angry.

Maybe… this wasn't a good time.

Thoughts of turning back and going to the New Directions choir room started to enter Quinn's head, purely born out of her nervousness and fear.

She didn't want to feel their rejection or witness their anger.

The idea of turning around and going the other direction was just taking root when Quinn rounded the corner and came across a scene that made her stop.

A group of five girls were surrounding Brittany, who looked paler than usual and close to panic. She was leaning against the lockers as if she couldn't support her own weight, breathing unevenly, almost hyperventilating.

The nearest girl, who seemed to be the leader of the group, was glaring at Brittany like she was some vile, disgusting insect.

From her spot just around the corner, Quinn caught the words, "Gross" and "Don't belong." Upon moving closer, she heard, "You're already an idiot, and that's bad enough as it is. But you're a freaking slut, too. Fucking Lopez in the locker room, right? Do you bring anyone else into the picture? Does that little bitch, Amanda join in? Or Puckerman maybe?"

Quinn wasn't going to hear anymore of this. To hell with it if she got another soda drench. There was no way she was going to stand by and watch people treat her friends this way. "That's enough!" She squeezed through the circle and wedged herself between Brittany and the girl. "Leave her alone."

Caught by surprise at Quinn's unexpected intervention, the girl took a step back, her eyes widening. The other girls also did the same, backing away and giving Brittany some space.

Before Quinn was able to turn to Brittany and ask her if she was okay, the leading girl's shock vanished and the sneer was back. "Well Fabray, we haven't seen you in a while. Are you the one that joins in on Lopez and Pierce's sessions?"

Revolted by the way this girl's mind worked, Quinn said, "No. But whether or not I do is none of your business." Summoning every ounce of her old commanding self, Quinn hardened her expression and used the menacing tone she used to always employ as Head Cheerio. "Now get out of my sight."

Instead of retreating like Quinn was expecting, the girl recovered and moved forward, not afraid of meeting Quinn's eyes. "You're not the Captain of the Cheerios anymore, so no one has to listen to you."

"You little-"

"Well it's true, Fabray." The girl turned to her followers and gestured for them to reclaim their positions and tighten the circle. Quinn recognized the combination of coordination and petty aggression that could only come from Cheerios. "Am I right, girls? Fabray's just a Lima loser and _so_ not worth paying any attention to."

Hearing the girls agree in a way that was so similar to Azimio's jocks just irritated Quinn. How she, Brittany and Santana used to be exactly like this was all the more appalling. It was with combined exasperation with her past self and these girls in the present that Quinn said, "If we're so unworthy of your time, why are you even bothering to talk to us?" At this, the girls quieted. "I mean you must think you're so high and mighty with your threats, but really, none of you are any better than we are."

She hadn't forgotten the way girls like these think. With a meaningful glance in Brittany's direction, Quinn added, "None of you are the ones wearing the Cheerio uniform right now, after all."

That definitely struck a chord. The lead girl looked ready to explode, but had no substantial retort at the ready.

"Is there any trouble going down over here?"

At the sound of the unexpected voice, Quinn's eyebrows shot upwards as she spotted the Mack, who placed a hand on the lead girl's shoulder, and from the tension in those fingers, it looked like a really firm grip. On either side of the Mack, Sheila and Ronnie stood over the other former-Cheerios, effectively using impressive size to intimidate.

"Mack?" Quinn blurted out like an incompetent idiot.

"Yo, Q." Mack winked at Quinn before focusing on the girl. "So, kid. You mind tellin' me your name and address so I can track you down later tonight and beat you up on your way home?" Not taking her hand off the girl's shoulder, Mack checked her watch, "I've got TT rehearsal in a bit, so there ain't gonna be any action right now, so can we schedule an appointment for tonight?"

From the way the girl's face turned bright red, Quinn could see that she was furious, but saw the sense in staying out of a fight with the Skanks. "Nothing. No trouble here."

"Now get your fucking carcass out of here."

The Mack let go while Ronnie and Sheila moved back. Most of the girls left in a hurry, but their leader threw one last glare at Brittany. "Don't you forget what I said." And then she was running off before any of the Skanks could move towards her.

Now that the girls were gone, Quinn turned to Brittany and saw that she was still paler than usual, and unsteady on her feet. "You okay, Britt?"

Rubbing her temples, Brittany closed her eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled a few times before looking from Quinn to the Mack to Ronnie to Sheila. "Thanks, you guys."

"Troubletones stick together." Mack told Brittany with a tone of familiarity that Quinn found odd. Not that it was bad, but just… strange. It made her wonder what else she might have missed out on while the Troubletones grew more and more tightly knit.

Brittany though seemed just as surprised by the response as Quinn was, to the point of just nodding and smiling and looking as if she wasn't sure how to respond.

Sensing that no further conversation was going to emerge from this silence, the Mack said, "We'll head on to the choir room. Catch ya later. See ya, Quinn." With that, the Skanks walked away and left Quinn alone with Brittany.

And apart from the usual after-school noise of students going around the hallway, excited to head home, there was just silence between Brittany and Quinn. And she had no idea how to break it.

Should she bring up the Troubletones request now? Was it still even a practical idea to join the Troubletones at this point? They already seemed pretty close now. Maybe too close to be able to comfortably welcome an outsider into their group. Or should Quinn apologize for the choir room incident first? Or would it be better to talk about a botched Santervention with Santana actually present?

Quinn was torn and lost now.

Thankfully, it was Brittany who decided to put an end to the tense silence. "Why do you smell like soda?"

Consciously running her fingers through her hair and wincing at the texture, Quinn answered, "Azimio happened."

"I guess slushies are getting out of fashion." Brittany was doing it again, saying something odd with this unbelievably serious expression that made it difficult for Quinn to be sure if it was sarcasm, seriousness, or just… something else. Brittany being Brittany.

"I guess…?" Quinn said uncertainly.

Brittany lifted her hands up to massage her forehead again, as if it still hadn't stopped bothering her. "Quinn?"

"You need help with anything? Should I take you to the clinic?" Quinn asked, feeling her concern increase.

Shaking her head, Brittany lowered her hands and said, "I'll be fine. I just… need to calm down." She closed her eyes again and went back to breathing in slow, deliberate breaths.

What had done this to Brittany? Was it the stress of looking out for Santana? Or did something happen while Brittany was being confronted by those girls? Quinn thought of all the possible reasons for Brittany to be so shaken up, but couldn't pinpoint which was the most likely because they all seemed very plausible. And there was still the fact that Quinn no longer felt sure about how well she really knew Brittany.

"Quinn, I appreciate you stepping in and keeping Susan and her girls from scarring me with their black magic." Brittany had her eyes still closed as she spoke and leaned her head back against the lockers. "I really do appreciate that…" Quinn sensed the entrance of a _but_ before Brittany actually said it. "But… I have to ask you…"

Brittany opened her eyes. "What happened to you?"

Though she suspected what the question meant, Quinn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "What do you mean?"

"I thought…" Brittany frowned, as if it was difficult to organize her thoughts. "I thought that… after Santana's outing… You'd… you'd be around more. You'd be like the hippogriffs and the griffins that fly with the unicorns." Though Quinn rarely ever actually understood Brittany's strange analogies, there was no mistaking the fact that Brittany was bringing up the distant, elusive behavior Quinn had recently. "But instead, you've been… _gone_. What happened?"

After quickly thinking about it and debating on the pros and cons with herself, Quinn said, "Is it okay if I go to the Troubletones choir room with you? I'd like…" Quinn braced herself, because what would happen next was going to be major. Either a fairly huge, but exciting new change, or another painful disappointment. "I'd like to apologize and explain myself to both you and Santana."

* * *

><p>What could possibly be taking Brittany so long? Already, there were two unanswered texts asking where she was. Santana was starting to worry.<p>

At the other end of the choir room, Sugar was chattering away to her latest employed member while Mercedes oriented her church buddy. Meanwhile, Amanda was listening to Lauren narrate the wrestling match she had with her last boyfriend. A few minutes ago, the Skanks arrived and took the corner opposite Sugar and Mercedes. When Santana asked them if they'd seen Brittany, the Mack said that Brittany would be here soon and was just talking to Quinn.

Despite being given this news, Santana still felt anxious and agitated, and pacing from one end of the choir room to the other did little to calm her. It was those looks Susan and the others kept throwing at them during lunch that kept forcing its way into Santana's mind. It fed her paranoia. Fed it until it swelled.

And now, all Santana could think of was what she would to Susan or Bleachead Bennet or any of the other former-Cheerios if they had dared to even _look_ at Brittany the wrong way.

"I'm pretty sure she's just distracted by her conversation with Quinn, as Mack suggested." Even Mrs. Corcoran was trying to calm Santana, but without much success, either.

"Yeah, but there's no telling what Susan or Bleachhead might do to her if they catch her alone." Santana hadn't forgotten the tidal wave of anger she'd felt when she found out Bleach _actually_ slapped Brittany. The girl still had to pay for that. One way or another.

Yes, Santana had told herself to stay out of it and try not to further provoke the recently kicked out Cheerios, but in the middle of all this agitation, it was pretty much impossible to think like that.

As if she'd only just realized how vital the information was, Mack said. "That Susan kid was tryin' to cause trouble for Brittany an' Quinn, but we took care of it. Sent her an' her little buddies running, right Ronnie?"

"True that." Ronnie lifted her palm and they high-fived.

Her tension increasing, Santana turned on the Skanks. "And _none_ of you thought to bring this up the moment you came in?"

"Hey, chill." Santana felt anything but chill. The lack of any sign of worry in their behavior frustrated Santana because it was as if none of them could figure out just how important it was for her to know if Brittany was being harassed. "Just coz your girlfriend's a bit late, don't mean you can take it out on us." The Mack shrugged, "She'll be here, quit worryin'."

Santana opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Sheila. "Dude, we told you already. We handled it. That Susan kid went runnin' home. She ain't gonna go an bother your Brittany. At least not today."

Fine.

They had a point.

Maybe.

Sort of.

Santana was still looking for an excuse to snap at someone when Brittany finally came in through the doorway with Quinn by her side.

Not caring about how stupid she'd probably look because that was the last thing on her mind, Santana hurried over to Brittany and kissed her as if they hadn't seen each other in several centuries.

That was when she noticed that there was something off about Brittany. Her skin seemed paler, and the strength and steadiness Santana usually felt when she was against Brittany wasn't there.

Grasping Brittany's face and looking into her eyes so there was no way she could Lord Tubbington her way out of this, Santana asked, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I ran into Susan and she's really bitter about being kicked off the team and she warned us that we're not going to stay Cheerios for very long." Brittany's answer came in a ragged whisper. "Please don't do anything rash."

Narrowing her eyes, Santana recalled the images she'd earlier conjured of the things she would do to Susan if she did anything to Brittany. "_Why not_?"

Instead of answering the question, Brittany said, "Oh, and before that, I kinda had to talk to Jewish Cloud Guy. He was asking rude questions and I got mad and grabbed his hair and threatened him and almost did something bad but I didn't but I almost did and I thought about it really hard and I was _so_ close to doing it but I didn't though and I let him go."

Tearing her eyes away from Brittany's, Santana looked up and down and made a quick scan of Brittany's body to see if there was any sign that would tell her that Jewfro tried to touch her inappropriately. After all those disturbing incidents he was infamous for, Santana wouldn't put it past him.

"Did he touch you anywhere? Coz if he did, Britt, I'm gonna kill him."

"No, he didn't. It was just his questions." Brittany was starting to shiver, causing Santana to tighten her hold and hope that the close contact would help. "They just… they made me _so_ angry. And I almost threw his head at the locker. San, it was _scary_."

A tight lump took form somewhere between Santana's throat and chest. Brittany didn't do anything wrong, but merely considering doing it was getting her all worked up. And Santana? Just moments ago, all she could think of was doing brutal things like throttling or beating the crap out of people who may be harassing Brittany.

Reminding herself that this wasn't about her right now, but Brittany, Santana pushed the thoughts away and focused. Her right hand went up and down Brittany's back while the left stroked her hair and guided her head to Santana's shoulder.

Brittany's arms were wrapped tightly around Santana's waist, and after a while, breathing became difficult because no matter how distressed or shaken up she was, Brittany would always be unusually strong.

"Britt…" Though Santana really wanted to comfort Brittany and help her feel better and remind her that she didn't do anything wrong, there was still the fact that they were pretty much in the middle of the crowded choir room. And kind of making a scene. "Can you look at me for a sec? I gots to tell you something."

She felt the deep breath Brittany took before lifting her head from Santana's shoulder. Although her eyes had a pink tint to them, her face was dry and tearless. "Y-yeah?"

"You didn't do anything wrong." Santana spoke firmly and clearly, hoping that the words would get through to Brittany.

From the look on her face, it was clear that Brittany was still bothered by the mere fact that she had thought of and considered being brutal towards another person. "Quinn's got something to say to us."

That was Brittany's way of changing the subject and moving attention away from herself. Still, Santana gave her a quick kiss and whispered, "You're still a good person. That you thought about it but didn't do it makes you really strong and awesome for resisting the urge." Again, Santana tried not to compare the situation to herself. But she couldn't help it. "Okay, Britt?"

Brittany nodded, at least slightly convinced, before pulling away from the hug and facing Quinn.

Santana felt uncomfortably aware of every girl's eyes focused on her and Brittany. Thank whatever almighty being residing out there that they all had the sense to avoid commenting on it and making things awkward.

"Q… you had something to say?" Santana tried to think of what it could possibly be about, but came up with nothing. After Quinn pretty much disappeared in the past few days, Santana wasn't sure what to make of her anymore. She figured that it was just another relapse, and Quinn wanted out of their lives again.

"You joinin' TT?" The Mack asked.

"Are you accepting the offer?" Ms. Corcoran offered something?

The questions obviously made Quinn uneasy. She was doing that thing again. When she bit and chewed at her bottom lip. Santana recalled a time when she used to tease Quinn about it and say that no matter how many times Quinn chewed at her lip, it would never be as full and attractive as Santana's. That was usually followed by a smirk from Brittany.

Santana was tempted to crack the same jokes for old time's sake, but it felt odd to do so. That Saturday when Quinn visited had felt nice for the most part. They felt like the Unholy Trinity again. Then Quinn dropped out of their lives all over again and now Santana felt a little apprehensive about trying to forge any strong bond with her now, only for it to just break again.

"Brittany." Quinn finally collected enough of her guts to start talking. "I apologize for the botched Santervention." Santervention? Santana vaguely remembered Brittany mentioning it at one point or another during their conversations before or after school. Or maybe it was Rory when he apologized to Brittany in front of Santana. She hardly knew the details though.

"They said I didn't understand what was going on with you. I got mad and hit the box of sheet music and walked out." Brittany gave a hurried recap to Santana in the form of a whisper, then addressed Quinn, "But what happened to you the past couple of weeks, Quinn? I thought you were gonna be here for us. You stopped replying to my texts so I stopped texting."

Quinn bowed her head and avoided looking at anything but her shoes while Brittany threw the questions. "I… I…" She paused, collected her thoughts, tried again, "I know it's not all that great an excuse, but…" As if it took a lot of effort, Quinn slowly lifted her head to look at Santana and Brittany. "I was going through some things. Particularly about Beth…"

When Quinn cast a glance at Ms. Corcoran, she nodded as if there was something that only the two could really understand.

"So… there was that. The Beth issues. Plus my own kind of crazy." Quinn tried to laugh at this, but only a strange sound that was half-chuckle came out. Regaining full seriousness, she looked from Brittany to Santana. "I _really_ regret not being a better friend. And… overall not being a better _person_. And I'm extremely sorry and I don't quite expect to be forgiven… but I'm hoping for it…"

"And… to show that I'll be around more… I'd like to join the Troubletones. If… if you'll have me."

Did that mean the decision rested on them? Santana looked around the choir room and took the time to take in every face and expression. The two new members Sugar and Mercedes brought in probably weren't affected either way. Mercedes though seemed more than willing to have Quinn join, but from her silence, Santana figured that she wasn't going to say anything unless Brittany and Santana did. Ms. Corcoran seemed to be the same as Mercedes. Sugar and Amanda both looked excited by the idea of a new member. Lauren and most of the Skanks probably couldn't care less either way. The Mack though was grinning as if nothing would please her more than for Quinn to join them.

Finally, Santana looked at Brittany. "What do you think?" Part of her still felt wary, but if Brittany was willing to trust Quinn again and give her another chance, Santana had no problem with that. Besides, she was also fine with cautiously letting Quinn in. They could let her join, but keep an eye on her and have a back up plan in case she vanished again. "I'm... I think I'm okay with it."

Plus… as much as Santana felt reluctant to admit it to herself, there was something comforting about keeping her friends close. Things were slowly falling back into place with the Cheerios, and the idea of being the Unholy Trinity again, complete again… there was something about it that made hoping for improvement quite tempting.

Brittany hesitated, which was kind of surprising. "Well… okay." She managed to smile at Quinn. "The more Troubletones, the better, right?"

"Really?" Quinn literally looked like she couldn't believe it.

"Duh." Santana rolled her eyes.

Quinn still stood at her spot a meter from the doorway, disbelief written all over her.

Mercedes left her seat and walked over to the center of the choir room. "Get over here so we can have a group hug to welcome you!"

Soon enough, the four of them were hugging each other, and Santana was once again hit by that warm feeling of being part of something. But this one was different from being part of the Cheerios. There was something more intimate and sincere about this. About the Troubletones. About being close to Quinn, Mercedes and Brittany.

And Sugar, too. Who had just joined in.

"I forgive you and Mercedes and Sugar and Rory. But no one else in that choir room has apologized and I'm still a little mad at them."

The whisper had probably been meant for Quinn alone, as hers was the ear that Brittany was directing her voice to. But Santana couldn't help but overhear. And it reminded her again of how much she and Brittany had changed.

* * *

><p>"So after rehearsal, Quinn told us about New Directions' plan to revive the Bully Whips." After making sure Santana was sleeping soundly with Lord Tubbington guarding her, Brittany went downstairs to try coming up with a new plan for her campaign, some way of swaying voters one last time before voting day on Friday. Instead, Brittany bumped into her mother in the kitchen and ended up talking about the things that have happened today. "They were going to do it for us. To protect us."<p>

"And what did Santana say about this?"

"She's not too sure about it." Brittany answered, remembering how Santana had tensed at the suggestion. "I think she doubts New Directions is really going to follow through. She's still convinced that most of them don't care for her."

Actually, Santana wasn't the only one who thought that way. Brittany looked down at her mug of hot chocolate, not yet sure if she wanted Mom to know just how pessimistic and suspicious her daughter was becoming. "Quinn assured us though that they're really going to follow through with it. Kurt and Rachel are almost done handling the paperwork."

"What do _you_ think about it though?"

Why did she have to ask that?

Brittany toyed with the handle of her mug. "I dunno…" She shrugged, still avoiding looking at Mom. "I guess we'll just have to see how it goes."

"Don't you think the New Directions kids are being sincere about it?" Mom sounded concerned, probably picking up on Brittany's mood.

"I'm not sure what to think anymore." Brittany answered, and before she knew it her emotions came tumbling out of her mouth. "I feel like I normally should be feeling happy about this and trusting them to handle it and really be around to protect us, but I don't know anymore. I feel like now… all I can think about is how much it could go wrong. How much they could be all talk and no action and be just like holograms that seem really cool and have awesome effects but you can't really touch them and they can't touch you and they can't really do anything but talk."

As if she had the ability to read Brittany's mind and see how much the anger and pessimism had grown and how terrifying the knowledge of this was, Mom said. "Changes can change people."

"But these changes…" Not at all bothered by the rocky transitions of their conversation, Brittany admitted to Mom the same thing she'd admitted to Santana a while ago. "_I'm scared of myself_."

Upon hearing this confession, Santana had kissed Brittany and assured her that there was nothing to be afraid of. It was no cause for concern. Brittany was still strong enough to resist her impulses, and that made her even more of a good, admirable person. And then Santana let slip her own doubts about herself, and admitted she felt below Brittany for not having the same amount of self-control.

After that, it became Brittany's turn to hold Santana and reassure her that she had valid reasons. Brittany explained that no matter what, she would understand why Santana did the things she did. And she also admired Santana for being so brave in the face of conflict.

"I never feel brave." Santana had said. "I only feel like a coward."

"But you _are_ brave." Brittany had to remind Santana of just another one of those things she frequently forgot. "Every day that you choose to wake up and go back to school even if there are demons and dark dragons and ambitious uncle lions at every corner, you do something unbelievably brave. And you're _way_ beyond awesome for that."

"And _you're_ way beyond awesome for choosing not to do something you really wanted to do." Santana had said that, and it somewhat helped. Brittany was able to push back her uneasiness with herself for a while, and they got to settle down and talk about light topics before Santana eventually fell asleep.

By then, the encounter with Jacob Ben Israel had wormed its way back into Brittany's mind.

And now, here she was.

"Brittany, are you still with me?"

"What?"

Rolling her eyes and looking mildly annoyed, Mom said, "I said that changing is a part of growing up."

"But what if you don't recognize yourself anymore?" Brittany didn't want to become a completely different person. She didn't want to wake up one day, and see only a blank, bewildered expression on Santana's face as if she no longer recognized the girl in front of her. She didn't want to turn into a person who made everyone cower away whenever she walked down a hallway. _She didn't want to be the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to punch her own daughter._

"I think that at your core, there are still some things that will never change." Mom said, "You're always going to be the best bicorn ever."

Brittany tried to smile at this, but couldn't. "I've just been so… _angry_ lately." Extremely angry. And it was becoming less and less of a foreign emotion. "At Finn. At Susan and Bennet. At Josh Coleman. At Rick the Stick and the hockey jocks. At Jacob Ben Israel and all the other guys that posted those rumors." And of course, there was the worst of all. "At Mr. and Mrs. Lopez."

"Brittany." Mom waited for Brittany to look up from the mug before continuing. "Listen. The thing about this kind of anger is that it could eat away at you if you don't talk about it. Otherwise, it's going to force its way out of you at an inappropriate time."

"I _have_ talked about it." Brittany felt the need to defend herself. "Sort of. With Santana." Okay, so maybe she hadn't been addressing it as much as she should have. "This evening."

What a hypocrite she was being, telling Santana to try to address the problems she had with her parents when Brittany herself was hardly addressing the anger she felt at… so many people.

"And you have to remind yourself of the good things. Because when you're sad or you're angry…"

"All you can think about are the bad things." Brittany knew that so well now.

Mom nodded and took a sip from her own mug of hot chocolate. "When we made these, we had to heat the water up. Right?" She waited for Brittany to nod, then went on. "They could only reach a certain level of heat before we had to stop it. Otherwise, that boiling water would be too hot for anyone to enjoy the hot chocolate and we'd have to leave it and wait for it to cool."

Slowly forming a general idea for where Mom was going with this, Brittany nodded to show that she was able to follow.

"But if we didn't heat it at all, we'd be drinking this cold, and all the powder would be floating around in clumps and it'd taste awful and just stick in the back of our throats." Mom said. "Anger is like that."

"Sometimes, there are times when it's the only option. When you _have_ to get angry. There are times when it's justified. When there's just no other choice.." Like when? At the rate her own temper was developing, Brittany could hardly understand anymore what were times when her anger was justified and when it wasn't. All she could focus on was that it was _here_ and it was _intimidating_ and it was _growing_. "Like that incident in the choir room. That… Santervention was it? I think that if you had tried to explain yourself in your usual way, they still wouldn't have understood. Because sometimes, there's just no other way to get through to a person."

Brittany remembered that she _did_ try to talk and explain herself, but none of them were bothering to hear her out. Was there really no other way at the time?

"_But_." At the serious, unnerving tone of her voice, Mom was going to make an important point. Brittany cleared her mind of the distracting memory of the choir room incident and listened. "That doesn't mean you can just explode any time and go all Hulk on everyone. _No_."

That's exactly what Brittany was afraid of becoming.

"Learn the difference between the right time to be angry and the wrong time to be angry. And be aware of the fact that you should always try to be _diplomatically_ angry." Mom said, "Because we raised you to be better than someone who gets rude and foul when your temper rises. Focus on the point that's getting on your nerves, and don't bring in unrelated little quirks that bothered you at another time. And don't be any harsher than you need to be."

"But _how_?" Brittany asked. "It's not like there's a manual for how to figure out those limits."

Mom shrugged, and her tone was less grave when she said, "It's just something that comes with time and practice and maturity. I believe that you're already relatively good at holding back your anger when it's inappropriate. And if the things we overheard during your fight with Santana is any indication, you're already good at staying respectful when you're angry."

Though Brittany didn't like having to be reminded of that evening, she saw the point that Mom was making. Maybe… maybe this anger thing wasn't _too_ bad. It _did_ come in useful when she dealt with New Directions. And she got to scare off Jacob with it.

Well… maybe that one wasn't all that appropriate. Brittany could have handled that situation better.

Did Mr. Lopez ever think back to the night he and his wife found out about their daughter's sexuality? Did _he_ ever think about how he could have handled the situation better? Did Mrs. Lopez ever think about how she could have done something different? Or done _something_, _anything_?

Brittany had a hard time believing the Lopezes had any regrets about what they did to their daughter. But she could quite clearly imagine them fuming every time that damn commercial came on their television or radio.

"Do you think Santana's parents ever think about this kind of thing?" Brittany gave voice to her thoughts. Maybe Mom would have some good insight to give.

The response was disappointing though. "I can't say. I'm not Mr. Lopez or Mrs. Lopez."

"I still can't understand how they could… do that to her." Flashes of how broken Santana looked that evening, in the middle of the night, huddled under the lamppost, went through Brittany's mind. "I hate _him_ so much for hitting her. I hate _her_ so much for not doing anything."

"There isn't exactly anything we can do about them as Santana doesn't want to do anything other than what we're doing already." Mom said, "And I don't want anyone to be storming their house and picking any fights with them. If any conflict should arise with them, it should be because they initiated it, and we responded. I see no sense in stirring things up unnecessarily."

Fine. That was true. Going over to the Lopez house and yelling at Santana's parents was a really stupid idea that Brittany would never actually do. No matter how much she imagined it or wished for it.

"I… I really don't like though how he just… he could actually _hit_ her. Just like that." Brittany shuddered at the memory of Santana's black eye. "And Santana said that it wasn't the first time."

Mom's expression was somewhere between alarmed and sad. "That's just the way some parents are, it seems."

Brittany opened her mouth to say something more, to express her disgust with such parents, but instead, a long, piercing scream came from upstairs.

This conversation would have to end abruptly. Brittany hurried over to her bedroom, where she would have to save Santana from yet another nightmare.

* * *

><p>Things really <em>were<em> going well lately. Sure, there was that little incident with Azimio. But if Quinn were to overlook that, she could see that things had been going a lot better. Better than she was used to.

There were people who believed in her chances of getting into Yale. Brittany and Santana were forgiving. The Troubletones were accepting. Puck was gradually shaping up. Rachel was unbelievably understanding… It was all so lifting to look back at these recent events. The future seemed like a bright place now, and actually within her grasp this time.

It was still a foreign concept to Quinn, something she had yet to get used to. And there were still some fears and insecurities at the back of her mind.

But overall, she felt so much lighter. Freer.

A smile tugged at the corners of Quinn's lips as she finished with her make-up. Everything was slowly falling into place. Soon enough, she would earn Shelby's trust and be given the chance to see Beth and spend time with her. Really spend time with her this time. Really _see_ her. Get to know her.

With these thoughts circulating through her mind, Quinn was about to leave the restroom and head over to the New Directions choir room to inform them of her departure, but paused when a girl went through the door.

It wasn't hard to recognize the bleached blond hair of Bethany Bennet.

At the sight of Quinn, Bennet paused, and for a moment, looked uncertain, as if there was something she was tempted to change her mind about.

As if deciding to go on with it, Bennet walked past Quinn and entered a stall.

Normally, Quinn would have shrugged it off and just left. Who spies on girls in the bathroom, anyway? She certainly wasn't that kind of perverted freak.

And yet… there was something off about Bennet's behavior.

The most striking note being the fact that _Bennet was wearing her Cheerios uniform_, and Quinn explicitly remembered hearing that Bennet was one of the girls that had done the worst of the bullying and was no longer on the team.

It aroused Quinn's suspicion, and so she decided to stick around by the mirror and use brushing her hair as a cover. While waiting, she thought about why Bennet would be wearing her uniform when she wasn't a Cheerio anymore. One theory was that she hadn't been kicked out after all.

But that didn't make sense since Quinn recalled seeing Bennet wearing casual clothing yesterday. And there was still the fact that Santana and Brittany specifically said she was one of the girls kicked out of the team. Together with Susan and a few other girls.

Soon enough, Bennet came back out of the bathroom stall.

Out of her Cheerio uniform.

While Quinn tried to process this information as she watched Bennet's reflection, Bennet noticed and bristled. She looked ready to say something, but stopped just as she opened her mouth.

Retreating, Bennet looked away from Quinn and that same expression of uncertainty was back.

Before Quinn could say anything, Bennet hurriedly stuffed her Cheerios uniform into her bag and left.

What was _that_ all about? Quinn was intrigued until she reminded herself that there were still things that had to be done.

Prioritize.

Quinn put away the brush and headed for the New Directions choir room, where she found them already starting on their vocal exercises, with Mr. Schue leading from his spot next to the piano.

She tentatively knocked on the door before entering, and said, "Hey guys… there's something I have to tell you."

Majority of the faces that were looking at her held expressions of confusion, because of course, none of them had any idea what this was going to be about. "I…" How the hell was she supposed to say this? The worries began to creep their way towards her, sneering at her hesitation. They told her that New Directions was not going to take this well. Even if Rachel was aware and agreeable, and even if she represented New Directions as their Co-Captain, she didn't embody each individual member.

"Is this about Shelby's offer to join the Troubletones?" For once in his life, Mr. Schue did something a little more useful than writing words on the board.

Nodding her head gratefully, Quinn said, "Yeah. It's about that. I… I've already talked to them—Ms. Corcoran, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany… all of them."

"Wait… wait a sec." Puck's gaze darted from Quinn to Mr. Schue and back. "Are you _leaving_ us for them?"

Biting her lip and hoping they wouldn't get too angry with her, Quinn made the smallest of nods and awaited their reaction.

Which was, for the most part, silence.

And of course, Rachel Berry was the first to put her mouth to use. "I for one am glad that you successfully won them over and were accepted into their glee club. Congratulations, Quinn!"

Hearing this helped Quinn breathe a little easier. "Thanks." She hadn't been imagining Rachel's approval after all. _It was real._

"Did we do something wrong?" Tina looked personally offended.

"No!" Quinn didn't want any of them to think that they were going to be parting on bad terms, just like the past two defections. This was different. Or at least… it was to Quinn. "This isn't about anyone doing anything wrong, or me feeling any resentment towards anyone." Finn was still an exception. As far as Quinn was concerned, Finn was still on probation and under close observation. He _still_ had to prove that he now knew better than to shove girls out of the closet or to step on guys with better talent.

"This is something I want to do for Santana, Brittany and Mercedes." Quinn could have told them about how Beth was involved too, but she didn't know how to explain that concept to them without having to revisit how badly botched the first several chances were and how important it was for Quinn to get this chance right this time. "I want to be more… _there for them_."

There were a few scattered assents, but a lot still seemed like they would rather have Quinn stay. Finn, after looking left and right and observing the reactions of the other members, stood up and spoke to Quinn more directly than in the past couple of days. "Quinn, Sectionals is like three days away, New Directions can't afford anymore defections. We don't even have enough members as it is."

Again, Mr. Schue stepped in for Quinn. Surprisingly. "If Quinn leaves, we'd only be short two members. We could easily get the band guys to fill in those slots again, like we usually do."

Finn still didn't seem pleased with the idea, but at least he had the sense to shut up and sit down.

"Oh, and Quinn?" Expecting to hear about how Kurt regretted losing the backup vocals Quinn would provide, she instead got something else. "I'd like to give a status report regarding our Bully Whips proposal."

Brightening up, Quinn encouraged him to go on. At the change in topic, the tension in the room also seemed to ease up.

"Figgins asked us for an official proposal in writing, which I was able to easily produce, referencing the original proposal from Dave Karofsky."

"How'd you even get a copy of it?" Mike asked with a combination of surprise and alarm. Like he imagined Kurt having to physically wrestle the documents out of Karofsky's hands.

The confidence in Kurt's stance wavered for just a moment. "I've… had the opportunity to make contact with him, and he willingly forwarded the files to me." Quinn briefly wondered just how that contact went, especially after all the conflict between them that no one was going to forget in a hurry.

It was possible that they bonded over the time that Karofsky had to escort Kurt from room to room. Quinn really couldn't be sure of those details, and didn't get to ask, because Kurt continued speaking after a brief pause to adjust the files he was holding.

"Interestingly enough, he only came up with the framework of the club after hearing Santana pitch the idea. The escort system and such, that was planned out by Dave, probably applying his strategy-devising skills from football." Kurt shrugged self-consciously, as if doubting the extent of his knowledge on football and hoping no one would make a fuss about it. "But it was Santana that actually did most of the technical writing. And she's surprisingly good at being professionally wordy when she's not coming up with witty yet degrading nicknames for us."

"That's… interesting." Quinn vaguely remembered the half-assed essay Santana wrote in their first year. At the time, it was no wonder she needed Quinn as a tutor slash source of stolen answers. But that was the time when Santana and Brittany hardly took their education seriously. The fact that Coach Sylvester manipulated her way into making sure none of her Cheerios ever flunked in class only encouraged such negligent behavior.

But maybe Santana wrote and argued better when she felt passionately about something. Or she'd improved in the past couple of years, because who wouldn't? Maybe it was a bit of both.

"Well it probably takes a special brain to come up with the kind of stuff she comes up with." Sam said, "I mean some of the things she'd say to me are way more epic than the catchphrases I've seen in comic book battles."

"Still doesn't change the fact that what she says is mean." Finn probably meant for the comment to come out as a whisper, but then he never really was good at modulating his voice.

Sensing danger, Rachel jumped in and diverted attention back to the original topic. "Principal Figgins also asked for a list of potential members. I listed down everyone in New Directions, as well as a few other people from the various other organizations I participate in."

Following Rachel's lead, Kurt said, "And we caught up to Figgins yesterday just after the final bell and submitted the paperwork."

"He told us that he'll look at them today, and though organization proposals have to go through a deliberation process that usually takes at least two weeks, he promised to speed it up for us since this is a special case wherein the organization is _highly_ _beneficial_, and was already accepted last year."

"It's just that it was disbanded this year due to the unfulfilled member quota. But since there are going to be so many of us joining, it's practically a sure approval coming to us."

"We expect to receive our approval and go-signal by Friday, that is, tomorrow."

Several claps and cheers greeted Rachel and Kurt's announcement. Hearing such promising news was thrilling. "Congratulations, you two!" Quinn said, "I'm glad we'll be able to get this done for Santana and Brittany so soon."

There were nods of agreement, and Kurt and Blaine exchanged smiles.

"Oh, and one more thing." Quinn wasn't going to forget what Brittany whispered in the Troubletones choir room. "I would suggest that those of you who still haven't apologized to Brittany for offending her during the botched Santervention… apologize soon. Brittany's waiting for it."

It intimidated Quinn to know that Brittany was no longer as passive as she used to be. That she could actually hold a grudge now was… _intriguing_ news. It meant Quinn ought to be more careful about offending Brittany now, since she wasn't going to let things slide by so easily anymore.

"Can't we worry about that after Sectionals?" Finn asked, "I mean we're really stressed out about that right now."

Hearing this prodded at Quinn's temper, and she had to take several breaths to keep it in check before responding civilly. "I do think it should be done soon, but it's up to you guys when you'd like to talk to her. Do it on your own time then."

But as she said this, Quinn made it a point to glare at Finn and quietly let him know that she still didn't approve of what he'd done to Santana, and Quinn was never going to feel comfortable with him until he'd properly addressed that.

* * *

><p>Was this how her life was going to be from now on? Every night to be dreaded? To be experienced with fear, pain and regret? For the rest of her life, was she going to spend every night tossing and turning in bed, screaming for mercy and begging fists that weren't there to stop coming towards her?<p>

As Brittany drove them to school, Santana kept her eyes on the window, out of Brittany's reach. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the moisture, the unusual shine. The sorrow that always managed to seep through the barriers because this was _Brittany_. And Brittany could _always_ tell.

There was a time when Santana's sleep wasn't always disturbed by nightmares. There was a time when her father didn't look on her with disgust. A time when he expressed pride in his daughter. And there was a time when her mother could stand to look at her. A time when her mother would hold her and whisper promises of always being there to keep her safe from the monsters in the closet and the beasts under the bed.

Santana hadn't forgotten those times.

But it was difficult… _so difficult_… to believe that they ever happened.

Was it funny that now, her own parents were the nightmares, the monsters, the beasts? If that was the kind of humor one had, then definitely, it must be hilarious.

Santana could almost laugh at it, really.

If she didn't feel so brought down by it.

This was just one of those days when she just wished she could turn her emotions off. Turn off the… the _feelings_ she still had for her… _parents_. Severe the rotting bond that still attached them to each other.

Wouldn't it be such a relief to turn it all off?

"Santana?"

Since she didn't quite trust her voice right now, Santana only responded with a grunt to acknowledge that she heard Brittany. They were in school now, and since the first class of the day was more than an hour away from starting, there were just a few cars in the parking lot, and no people. They had privacy.

"Are you okay?" There she was again. Sweet, sensitive Brittany being concerned for the moody bitch with no family. The disgrace. The filth. "You're… quiet."

This was a window that Brittany was presenting. An opportunity for Santana to express herself and release all of the pent up emotions buzzing around inside her head and clawing at her heart.

But again. Talking about feelings meant actually addressing those feelings. Facing them and dwelling on them and dealing with them. It would mean going through them at their greatest intensity.

Santana just wasn't ready for that. Just the thought of it was beginning to tighten her throat. "Just don't feel like talking."

Without having to look at Brittany and see her expression, Santana instantly sensed that Brittany felt hurt and excluded.

Yet she took it with good grace. "I'm always right here. Whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Britt." Santana said, genuinely thankful, and very much relieved. "I just need some space for a bit."

"And San… it _will_ get better." Brittany said before opening her door. "I'm gonna make sure it does. Okay?"

Santana shrugged and opened her own door.

* * *

><p>It was troubling to see Santana so sad, and although Brittany wanted nothing more than to hug Santana and kiss her and talk to her until she's smiling and laughing again, Brittany was terrified of having another fight so soon. If Santana didn't feel like talking and wanted space, Brittany wasn't going to harass her.<p>

Still, Brittany stayed close during their rehearsal and their first class together, to make sure no one harassed Santana, as well as to be available in case she was ready to open up.

During lunch at the cafeteria, they invited Quinn to join them, and it should have felt great to be surrounded by friends, but Brittany could only focus on the fact that Santana hardly ate. Again.

And when Mercedes pointed out that Santana was unusually quiet, she just shrugged and gave a vague answer about not feeling hungry. Brittany and Mercedes exchanged glances upon hearing this, and they reflected each other's concern.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Sugar went on to give another one of her amusing rants criticizing how McKinley was being run. Halfway through it, Santana excused herself and left, rejecting Brittany's offer to follow.

"Did something happen?" Quinn asked. "Another run-in with that girl—Susan? Or one of the jocks or what?"

Brittany shrugged, "She won't talk to me." And it hurt. "She was fine last night." Excluding the part where she woke up screaming and kicking, trying to escape another nightmare. "But this morning, she was already a sad panda when we woke up."

"I'm pretty sure she'll be in a better mood soon enough." Sugar was quick to pick up on Brittany's mood and tried to reassure her.

It didn't really help shake off the worry, but Brittany didn't want to be rude and snap about how Santana didn't deserve to be so sad, she deserved to be happy and loved and _safe_. Now. Not soon enough. _Now_.

Brittany kept the frustrated thought to herself and stayed quiet.

"The Bully Whips proposal will be approved soon." Quinn made her own attempt to say something reassuring. It was a little more helpful. There were still doubts about people really going along with it and being willing to protect Brittany and Santana and any other unicorns and fairies and wizards and leprechauns, but it had potential. It was at least trying to address the question of their safety.

Speaking of which. Brittany, too, was going to actively try to make some changes if her campaign was successful. And today would be the last day to do something before people voted tomorrow.

"Could you guys help me with something?"

"Sure."

"I could text my dad right now and-"

"Thanks, Sugar, but you won't need to spend on anything for this." Brittany said, "It's about my campaign." When their faces shifted from concerned to intrigued, Brittany hesitated. When she and Santana last talked about it, it was during the weekend, and Brittany was supposed to make an announcement at the cafeteria. But after thinking about it some more, Brittany realized that she didn't want to talk to any crowd while they had perfectly useable projectiles that came in the form of food. "Lord Tubbington wouldn't be happy if I started giving a speech right here and right now and people didn't like it and threw food at me. He'd be mad about the food being a waste."

Now, there were varying degrees of confusion. "Okay…" Quinn held back saying more and nodded for Brittany to continue.

"So I was thinking of instead going door to door and talking to people in their classrooms."

It was something Brittany was supposed to consult Santana about today. But… the opportunity to bring it up never came. And Brittany didn't want to add to the stress Santana was already going through right now.

"Were you exempted from class to do this?" Quinn raised an eyebrow that quietly judged Brittany's sense of priorities.

To be perfectly honest, Brittany wasn't. She didn't consult any of this afternoon's teachers about it. "I've been told by a few teachers that I'd get better grades by being absent." Even if Brittany was performing better overall now compared to before, there were still a lot of teachers who doubted her intelligence and many still got easily frustrated by her answers and attempts at answers. They just really had something against her enthusiasm.

Brittany was trying. But apparently, they were picky about participation. A student can only actively participate in class as long as they had all the right answers. If they didn't they might as well go to sleep or leave the room.

Or at least, that's the way they behaved towards Brittany. And Santana too, sometimes.

It was _frustrating_. "But you know what?" The beast of anger inside Brittany twitched, sensing an opportunity. She calmed it, but let it stay awake. "I'm totally going to show them when I win presidency and I ace the finals!"

Sugar clapped and cheered enthusiastically, to the point of drawing the attention of some students seated at nearby tables.

Nudging Sugar into quieting, Mercedes said, "So do you want us to go with you while you're campaigning?"

"I wouldn't mind. I mean I'll just find ways to make up for the missed class."

"I could always pay someone to let me have an excused absence."

Brittany grinned, touched by how willing they were to miss class for her. Even Quinn, of all people. The honor student. One of the smartest students Brittany knew. "Thanks, you guys, but none of you need to do that."

It was something else. Something that Brittany wouldn't be able to do while she was going from classroom to classroom. "Could you guys keep an eye on Santana for me? Like just… make sure she's okay and no one harasses her."

If they were so serious about the Bully Whips plan, then surely, they could do this. "I'm worried about Susan trying something while I'm distracted. _You've_ seen how she is, Quinn." The memory of that encounter still bothered Brittany in more ways than one. She hated Susan for being so persistent and unnecessarily vicious. She hated the mindless girls that just did everything Susan said. And she also hated herself for being paralyzed and helpless throughout the whole thing.

The thought of Susan was infuriating whenever Brittany dwelled on it.

Actually, the more she thought of it, the more Brittany could see that Susan was as bad as Finn and Mr. Lopez and that Reggie Salazar guy.

"We can do that." Mercedes said.

"We'll keep her safe."

"I don't have any classes with her, but I have one with Susan. I'll tell you if I overhear anything that sounds bad."

There may be horrible people that existed in this world and just infuriated Brittany. But there were also good people. Friends she could turn to and count on.

And if Brittany let it, and thought positively, magically… then the existence of trustworthy friends and family made up for all of the demons and monsters tainting the earth.

* * *

><p>There would be no choir room rehearsal today because they were going to do it in the Pierce house instead. Santana was supposed to meet Mercedes, Quinn and Brittany over by Brittany's car, and they would go together. But since Santana was dismissed from her last class early, she would have to wait.<p>

Alone with her thoughts.

Which had gotten worse.

She could almost feel Coleman's large hands gripping her wrists, tightly and painfully. She could almost feel her shoulders being wrenched back as Coleman restrained her, leaving her helpless and at the mercy of her father's wrath.

_Dammit, Brittany_. Santana cursed herself for pushing Brittany away and putting a wall between them. _Where are you?_ She wouldn't be blurring the line between dream and reality if Brittany were here.

Right?

The parking lot grew out of focus. Dark shapes and figures towered over her. The broad shoulders of Mr. Lopez were easily recognizable. Powerful and intimidating. There was the lithe figure of Mrs. Lopez, not any less intimidating, but in command of a different kind of power. The kind that tossed daggers from afar and could inflict piercing wounds just by turning away and showing no trace of concern.

There was nothing coming out of Mr. Lopez's mouth yet, but Susan and Rick the Stick were on either side of Santana, taunting her and expressing their disgust. They deemed her to be an unfit Cheerio captain. They told her that the Cheerios deserved better and didn't need Santana. They told her that Brittany was a retarded idiot, but even _she_ was better than Santana because at least she was capable of having a stable relationship with a guy. A useless cripple of a guy, but still a guy.

Santana felt her trembling legs buckle under the weight of their words.

They were just words. They didn't mean anything. They were lies. No truth in them whatsoever. Santana covered her ears and sat on the ground, trying to ignore the words just as easily as she could ignore the feel of the gravel against the skin her Cheerio skirt could barely cover.

The Cheerios and the hockey jocks moved back and made way for Mr. Lopez. Santana didn't want to look at him and tried to turn her head away, but Coleman used a fistful of her hair to jerk her neck backwards, forcing her to face her father.

She was worthless. They wasted eighteen years of their lives feeding her and raising her and taking care of her, only for her to betray them and turn out to be some trashy tramp. She wasn't just a disgrace. She was a failure, too. A useless screw up with no family, no purpose and no future.

As far as they were concerned, she wasn't a Lopez anymore. She wasn't their daughter. She had nothing to do with them.

Santana hugged her legs close to her body and buried her face in her knees and wished Brittany would wake her up from this nightmare.

Not just the nightmares that happened every night. No, not just that.

But _everything_.

Santana wanted to wake up from _everything_ and be done with this. She didn't want to be shaken awake again and find Brittany over her, looking sad and worried. She didn't want to wake up in the Pierce house. She didn't want to wake up to a world where everyone knew about the secret she fought so hard to keep.

Santana just wanted to wake up in her own bed, settled under her dark sheets. She wanted to go out of her room and walk to the kitchen where no punch and no exile ever happened and instead see her father with half a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Her mother would be frying bacon and spot her daughter and greet her with a cheery 'Good morning!'

And Mama would ask her if she was ready for school. "You've brought your pencils?" _Yup_. "You have crayons?" _Yeah_. "Good. Now just wait there, and I'll finish with your breakfast and then start on the snacks you'll take to school."_ Could I bring extra snacks to share with Brittany?_ "Sure. She's a sweet girl. I'll definitely pack extra cookies for you two to share."

That would be an amazing morning to wake up to.

A morning when everything was so much simpler and easier.

"Santana, are yah awlrigh'?"

The kitchen faded away and the parking lot was a clear picture again. "What do you want, leprechaun?" Santana didn't move, didn't want to show anyone her face, didn't want anyone to know just how weak she really was.

"Nuthin', really." Rory answered, sounding closer, like he was bending over. "Jus' want t'know how ya are."

"Does it matter? And don't you got a sleepover rehearsal with Artie and Mike?"

There was movement to Santana's left that suggested Rory sat down next to her. "Aye. But it doan't feel right leavin' you 'ere like dis, all alone."

Still not willing to face him, Santana asked, "Why do you care? What's it to you?" As far as she knew, Rory only really gave a damn about Brittany. There was barely any connection between Santana and Rory unless Brittany, their link, was around.

"I doan't know 'bout yur American culture, but me, I like to tink dat friends care aboot each other an' so I care aboot ya."

Did he, really? Santana found it difficult to believe that, just like she found it difficult to believe that the Cheerios had really accepted Santana and Brittany.

The kitchen was starting to come back. Not the brightly lit, comfortable atmosphere from years ago, but the dark, heated one of anger, hate and disgust. The one where there was no safety. Where Santana didn't belong.

If potato boy didn't start yammering about something right now, Santana was going to lose it and get lost in another nightmare.

"Do you miss your family?" Santana asked the first question that came to mind, and scolded herself once it was out. That was such a ridiculously obvious question. Why did she even bother trying?

Rory didn't give an immediate response, as if to digest her question first, or judge her for asking him something like that.

"O'course I do." He spoke slowly, "I feel sad aboot how hard an' expensive it is for deir calls t'get through." The figures in the kitchen grew less solid, less striking. "I wish dey could make it t'Sectionals…" The distant yells, taunts and insults grew fainter and fainter, until it was just Rory's voice that Santana could hear. "But dey had to attend t'some emergency wid Seamus."

"I really _do_ miss m'family…" Rory said. "An' I'm hopin' dat we could at least be t'gether fer Christmas."

Before she knew it, Santana found herself making a confession to one of the last people she would have ever expected herself to open up to. "I miss my family, too."

"Well y'did live wid dem fer what? Eighteen years?"

"But… but I don't miss the people who kicked me out." As if the dam that had been keeping her words and emotions back was finally giving way and breaking, Santana lifted her head from her arms and started to talk. "I miss the woman my mom used to be." The woman who used to sing to her while teaching her how to bake. "I miss the cool guy my dad used to be." He used to read bedtime stories to his little girl at night. She used to brush her daughter's hair every morning.

"Y'know, he used to bring home lollipops and talk about how the other kids at the hospital were never anywhere near as strong and brave as me." His little daughter. His precious Santana.

"Rory, I know it's not exactly the same, but... how do you deal with missing your family?"

Rory looked uncomfortable as he shrugged. "I try talkin' t'dem on facebook? Or I tink aboot seein' dem fer Christmas?"

Of course. It was too different to be compared. The family that Rory missed was on another part of the world, but they were still part of _his_ world. The family that Santana missed was still in the same town, but lived in a whole different universe. They might as well be dead.

They pretty much were.

The Mom and the Dad that loved Santana were _gone_.

"But in yur case…" Rory awkwardly patted Santana's shoulder. "Y'know, even if y'might not see dat particular family again, der is anuther family dat loves ya."

"Britt's family."

"Y'know, sometimes, when I pass by deir room on d'way to gettin' a snack, I stop an' I hear dem talkin'. It sounds like dey're talkin' aboot their daughter. Like dey're talkin' aboot Brittany." Santana was tempted to interrupt Rory and ask where he was going with this, but she didn't trust her voice to be able to manage that. "I hear dem talkin' aboot colleges and bright futures for deir girl."

Of course Brittany had a bright future. She was a _genius_.

"And den I hear one of 'em say sumthin' like 'I really believe in Santana.' or 'Santana is a good girl.' or 'Der is so much dat Santana is capable of.'"

That… _that_, Santana didn't quite expect.

She also didn't expect the weird warmth that slowly built up inside of her.

"I know 'tain't the same thing…" Rory said, "But the Pierces are just as much yur family as dey are Brittany's. Even Emily, when we get t'talkin', she'll go on an' on aboot you bein' her big sister, too. An' she really admires ya."

It _really_ wasn't the same thing. But it still helped Santana feel less worthless, because to the Pierces, she was worth taking care of and investing in and believing in. And Rory was right about how the Pierces welcomed Santana as one of their own.

"Thanks, Rory." Santana smiled at him to show that her mood was starting to improve. "Turns out your potato-munching mouth is actually pretty insightful."

"Us magical creatures gotta stick together, eh? Leprechauns an' unicorns."

She felt her smile grow into a grin. "Totally right."

Just then, Santana noticed Brittany come into view, with Mercedes and Quinn on either side. Santana, overwhelmed by the mere fact that the Pierces accepted her no matter what, stood up and started running to close the distance between them as fast as possible.

When she was close enough, Santana leaped right into Brittany's arms. The momentum brought Brittany stumbling back a few steps, but she regained her balance quickly and her arms easily supported Santana's weight.

"What's up?" Brittany looked confused, but extremely happy. Probably relieved to see her girlfriend smiling again.

Santana wrapped her legs around Brittany's waist when she felt herself slip slightly. "I just had an enlightening conversation with a magical leprechaun and now I wanna make out with an even more magical bicorn."

Brittany grinned. "Well I'm certainly not the kind of bicorn who'll to stand in the way of that."

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>Okay, I'll address two characters in this footnote. The Mack and Rory. The Mack first.

In case you guys were wondering about the Mack's behavior, I've actually been writing her out to have an unrequited, semi-secret crush on Quinn. It's not really something that's going to come to the surface (or at least I don't think so. I mean if I end up writing it out spontaneously, then whatever. but I have no plans of explicitly addressing it), but it's something that I keep in mind whenever I write her interactions with Quinn. I dunno, something about her offer to beat Rachel up for Quinn in that first episode amused me and got me to think up all kinds of cracky stuff involving Mack trying to win Quinn over, without much luck.

But it's how I would explain why (in this story) Mack doesn't seem to have any issue with Quinn taking advantage of her stuff whenever they bump into each other under the bleachers. And some other little things.

(as a sidenote, I'd like to add that in my head, and within the context of this fic, Mack joined TT in an attempt to impress Quinn because she's into this music glee stuff and Mack figured joining a glee club would improve her chances. Somehow.. and lol it's paid off now that Quinn's joined TT)

And now about Rory... sometimes I think about him and I see how much glee screwed up the potential of his character. Like... it's an interesting dynamic that he had/s a thing for Brittany, and he's living with her. And Santana, the girl who scares the hell out of him, in the show's universe, probably visits like every day, and in this fic's universe, LIVES THERE.

And the thing I notice about Rory is that he sometimes makes REALLY bad choices when he tries to win people over. He seems to have a tendency to try lying his way into things (based on his 'techniques' with Brittany and Sugar). But at heart, he's really just a confused high school kid. He probably knows it's wrong, but he doesn't know how else to get by when no one seems to give a damn about him and they all blame him for something he can't help. (I mean Finn only invited him to join ND as a last resort)

The way I portray Rory in this story is that he's a good kid at heart. He just wants to make friends, and he thought trying to be cool and manipulating his way into getting laid would help. Then he realized how stupid and immoral he was being.

And then lately, after the time he's spent with ND, he feels more welcome. He's better off now that he's not a complete outsider anymore. But the two most important friends he has right now are Brittany and Santana. Why? Because Brittany and Santana both know what he did and how wrong it was, and weren't afraid to let him know. AND they forgave him.

I like to think that he values them very much, and that's why he tries to look out for them. He knows there are boundaries, and he tries not to cross those. But at the center of it all, he would like to be there for them.

And finally, I'd like to reiterate what I said last time about Bennet and Susan. I'm working at subtly, gradually making them more different from each other, and much less interchangeable.

And if you're still reading this, congratulations on your attention span, and thank you very much for going all the way! :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Someone mentioned the thing about whether or not Santana had any other family members to turn to, and I sort of brought that up in the earlier chapters. Santana had called her abuela and asked for help immediately after her parents threw her out, and her abuela turned her down, too. We'll see if I can still squeeze in another mention of Santana's extended family. But that might not be 'till like... the epilogue or something.

Also, as a sidenote, I randomly feel like pointing out that there really are some people who grow up thinking that the problematic home life they had was perfectly normal. _(and then boom they look back and feel blown away by how abnormal it really was)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

* * *

><p>"So after Santana's part, when we're all singing, maybe we could walk in… a circle?" Quinn suggested, demonstrating a walk while pumping her fist in the air. "Like <em>I'm a survivor<em>! And Sugar's _what_! Then _I'm not goin' give up_!"

After several more steps Quinn stopped and leaned against the back of the couch. "Or maybe not…"

Brittany paced the length of the living room, finding it easier to think of movements when she was actually moving. "It's not a bad idea. But I'd like to add more to that."

From the kitchen, Santana and Mercedes's voices came drifting over. They were starting over from the top, for the umpteenth time.

At least _they_ were making progress. Brittany and Quinn had yet to accomplish anything noteworthy. So far, they'd only managed to polish the choreography for the first few parts of the song. They really needed to move forward and get this done soon. Brittany promised to have it all settled and figured out by tonight so that the whole weekend could be spent mastering the steps instead of figuring out what to do.

"The Skanks could throw Amanda and Sugar into the air."

Brittany paused in her pacing to stare at Quinn.

Quinn shrugged, half smiling. "Just a suggestion."

"Well… it'd certainly be interesting." Brittany pictured the Mack and Ronnie lifting Sugar while Sheila and Lauren lifted Amanda. "Or they could just be lifted instead. Sugar would be on the left, Amanda on the right, and they can both say the _what_ parts while we dance in the middle and then-"

The smile on Quinn's face faded quickly. "I wasn't that serious! There's no way we can do that wearing those heels!"

"_Quinn_!" Brittany rolled her eyes and decided to continue pacing in an attempt to walk off her frustration. "This _is_ serious!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just running out of ideas." Quinn apologized. She sounded sincere enough. Almost nervous. "You're so set on finding the perfect move, and I've had no luck figuring it out. What do _you_ want to do?"

What _did_ she want to do? Brittany still didn't know. She just knew that she wanted something _epic_. She wanted to come up with a number that really showed that they were _survivors_. Something that proved to this insufferable town that this odd band of unicorns and bicorns and female wrestlers and scary-faced yet weirdly good-hearted goblins were survivors. They were a force to be reckoned with.

A united pack of fighters who stood up and carried on, no matter how many times they were pushed down or isolated or ostracized or outed.

Still continuing to walk, and vaguely recalling when it was time to turn around lest she bump into a wall, Brittany closed her eyes and pictured the stage and the silver dresses Sugar was buying for them. She imagined the lights and how they would play with the shine of their clothing, reflecting off of it. Drawing attention to them because they damn well deserved to have all eyes on them while they performed.

It had to be _something_.

The voices of Santana and Mercedes were powerful, echoing throughout the auditorium and audibly showing that there was _no_ _weakness_ here. They were survivors. They weren't going to give up. Not going to stop. _Gonna work harder_. _I'm a survivor_.

Santana's world came crashing down around her, turned into dust at her feet. A world of change was thrust upon her and the fears that tormented her for so long went from possibility to reality.

Still, she rose from the ashes. _Kept on surviving. It took all the strength she had not to fall apart. Kept trying to mend the pieces of her broken heart._

And now, here she was.

Singing her heart out on stage, to a huge crowd, full of people who more likely than not knew about her sexuality, saw the commercial that changed everything. They may judge her, they may hate her, and they may disapprove of her presence on stage.

But to hell with them! They were going to sit there and just _watch_. Watch as the _lesbian student_, the _head cheerleader_, with a group of trusted friends backing her up, leads the Troubletones to victory.

Just as Brittany was starting to grasp a solid image of the next step, her own real world steps came to an abrupt stop as one foot bumped into a solid object.

Her eyes snapped open and she flailed to regain balance.

Reacting quickly, Quinn caught hold of Brittany, one arm around the waist, the other hand grasping an arm. "Sorry, Britt! I got in the way."

At first, Brittany was going to curse at how the idea had slipped through her fingers and ask Quinn to just let go and let Brittany drop to the floor where she can close her eyes and pathetically wait for it to come back.

Then it struck her unexpectedly, and instead of pulling away from Quinn, Brittany put her own arm about Quinn's waist.

"What're you doing?" Quinn tensed at the unexpected contact.

"I've got it!" Brittany adjusted her other arm so that she and Quinn were holding hands. "_This_ is what we're going to do." She moved forward, and a bewildered Quinn took a step back. "_I'm a survivor!_"

"What?" Quinn seemed less uncomfortable and surprised, more confused.

Brittany took several more steps forward, quickening her pace, with Quinn just barely keeping up. "_I'm not gonn' give up!_" Then Brittany stepped back, pulling Quinn along. "_What?_"

"_I'm not gonn' stop!_" Going with the flow of the music in her head, Brittany bent over backwards, tightening her grip on Quinn and giving the nonverbal cue to hold on. She wasn't Mike, who would have gotten it in less than a second, but Quinn caught on quickly enough and dipped Brittany. "_What?_"

Then Brittany straightened up, took several steps to the side and half pushed, half guided Quinn's movements, getting her to do the same and lean back while Brittany supported her. "_I'm gonn' work harder!_"

"_I'm a survivor!"_ Breathless after the excitement of the idea almost got her hyperventilating, Brittany stopped once Quinn was standing on her own again. If they did this well, it would look _amazing_! Or at least, that's how Brittany could picture it.

"What do you think?"

"I think…" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You could've given more of a warning before doing that." Before Brittany could begin to feel crestfallen, Quinn said, "But I liked it."

"You do?" Brittany found herself grinning and bouncing slightly. "Is it okay with you if I pair up with Santana though?" There was nothing wrong with dancing with Quinn, but Brittany would rather dance with Santana because she was _Santana_. There was no one else Brittany felt more comfortable with, no one else she wanted to dance with more than Santana Lopez.

Quinn nodded and began walking towards the kitchen. "Sure. Let's show them and you can ask her."

Together, with more fluid movements because Quinn was now in on what was happening and could easily follow the simple steps, they demonstrated the idea to Santana and Mercedes, who watched while singing along.

After, Brittany and Quinn stood side by side and awaited judgment.

Mercedes wore a small smile and seemed to be considering it, picturing how it would look on stage with the all of the Troubletones performing the same steps in sync.

In contrast, and to Brittany's dismay, Santana didn't look as comfortable with the idea. She was shifting uneasily in her seat and playing with her fingers, doing anything to avoid looking directly at Brittany. "Is… isn't it too controversial?"

Brittany hadn't thought of it that way. She only thought that it would be the perfect way to show all of the unicornphobic minotaurs of the world that they weren't afraid of doing whatever they wanted, and whatever discriminating opinion people may have weren't going to get in the way.

"Not really." Quinn stepped in after figuring that Brittany didn't know what to say. "We're all going to be doing the same thing anyway."

The way Mercedes was looking at Brittany gave her the idea that Mercedes knew just how much Brittany wanted to dance with her girlfriend. "There are no guys in the Troubletones." She turned her gaze to Santana, who looked less uncomfortable, but still not completely at ease. "Unless they're complete idiots, the audience would understand."

"Yeah, and it'd be like promoting girl power!" Quinn started to get excited by her own argument. "Like we're saying that we don't need men to lead us. We can do perfectly fine on our own."

Actually… that was another great way to look at it. Brittany nodded in agreement to Quinn's point. By dancing those steps with each other, with fellow girls, it broke away from the tradition. It practically threw in people's faces the standard that it should be a man dancing like this with a woman. That a man should lead.

This step let both girls take turns leading and supporting each other.

Quinn was right!

Did Santana see it? Brittany spoke hesitantly, afraid that Santana still wasn't keen on it and would say no. "So… Santana… will you dance with me?"

The tension in Santana's shoulders eased, and her nervous fingers grew still while her eyes went up to meet Brittany's. "Alright. And I think Mercedes should dance with Lauren. Quinn with the Mack. Sugar and Amanda. Ronnie and Sheila. Mercedes's new kid with Sugar's new kid."

"Wait, why am I with the Mack?" Quinn asked. "Can't I pair up with Mercedes?"

Santana shook her head, stood up and walked over to Quinn. "Think about it, Q. Mack's about your size, and we both know you're not as in shape as you used to be when you were a Cheerio, so it won't be too hard for you to dance with Mack without dropping her." Quinn seemed to see the logic in what Santana was saying and nodded. "And that way, the other two Skanks can dance together and no one will have to be afraid of stepping on their foot and risk being beaten up after rehearsal. Or during."

Unable to help herself, Brittany grinned ear to ear. If there was any way of knowing if Santana was truly on board with the idea, it was this. Concretely showing that she thought about it, and could even imagine it and see the most practical ways to carry it out.

* * *

><p>After Santana and Mercedes wrapped up their rehearsal, they joined Quinn and Brittany in choreography, and by two in the morning, they called it a night, satisfied with the result of their extensive work together.<p>

Santana had wanted to talk to Brittany once Quinn and Mercedes were out cold, but instead spent the next hour lying next to her on the mattress they set up on the floor of the living room. It was tempting to go to sleep, but Santana didn't feel like it yet. In part because her mind was still full of thoughts regarding family. Parents in particular. Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, Mr. and Mrs. Pierce, to be specific.

The other reason Santana didn't want to sleep yet was her nightmares. She didn't feel too keen on waking Mercedes and Quinn up with her pathetic screams for help or mercy. The mere thought of seeing their faces and reactions made Santana cringe.

Living with the Pierces, _really_ living with them now instead of frequently sleeping over, it was opening Santana's eyes to some little things she never noticed before. Things she wouldn't have even thought about less than a month ago.

Things like the way Mrs. Pierce always readied Mr. Pierce's coffee every weekday morning, but on weekends, Mr. Pierce did that for her. Things like the way Mrs. Pierce would tease her husband whenever he forgot to brush his hair or if his shirt was inside out. Or the way Mr. Pierce managed to buy paint or baking ingredients for his wife before her supplies could even really run out.

And there was one Sunday when Mrs. Pierce was baking, Mr. Pierce snuck up on her and startled her, sending flour flying everywhere. Half laughing, half yelling out insults, Mrs. Pierce chased her husband all around the house, swatting at his shoulder and rubbing flour into his hair.

At the time, Santana had been too caught up in her own worries to really watch what they were doing and think about it, but now that she was lying awake and staring at the ceiling, she found herself dwelling on that incident and the others.

Another detail Santana noticed that may be an insignificant one to anyone else, but to her meant the world, was the fact that throughout her stay here, she had never seen Mr. Pierce take a single sip of alcohol of any sort.

He didn't take it every night with his dinner. He didn't bring any with him as he walked around the house. He didn't ask Emily to pour a cup of Brandy for him to bring up to the bedroom. He didn't send Brittany or Mrs. Pierce out to buy some beer.

That wasn't normal here.

Santana tried to remember what it was like in her house, and she could barely recall a night when there wasn't a cup of some alcoholic beverage at the table during dinner.

She could also recall slowly learning to tell the difference between a sober father and a completely wasted father. She'd learned when was the best time to exhibit her report card, and when was the worst time. When was the right time to ask him to sign something for school. When was the right time to ask permission to sleepover at Brittany's or go to a party at Puck's.

But the whole time, it had never occurred to her that it just wasn't normal to be drinking that frequently. It wasn't something that all fathers did.

Mr. Pierce wasn't like that. The Berry dads weren't like that, based on what Rachel said about how they only drank during special occasions.

It was a realization that Santana suddenly wanted to share with Brittany, but at that moment, Brittany snuggled closer, mumbling something under her breath and burying her head further into the spot where Santana's neck and shoulder met.

Brittany was sleeping so soundly, how could Santana just wake her? She must be exhausted after doing most of the choreography and moving and dancing around so much, exerting twice as much effort as everyone else because this was her department.

It was better to just let her sleep. Let her dream about chocolate kingdoms and unicorns jumping over rainbows.

From her spot on the floor, Santana looked at Mercedes, who had claimed the couch. What did _she_ ever dream about? Certainly not the same things that Santana did. Mercedes's family seemed nice. The several times Mercedes would mention her family doing something, it was usually with fondness.

Ignoring the twinge of envy this thought brought up, Santana carefully shifted her position to get a better look at Quinn without waking Brittany.

Quinn was supposed to take a sleeping bag on the floor, but passed out on the lounge chair after saying she was just going to sit and rest for a while. She ended up sleeping there.

At first, Santana was going to assume that Quinn would be dreaming sweetly, of large houses with expensive furniture, or girlish skirts and dresses, or diplomas and graduating with the highest grades.

Until she remembered that Quinn didn't exactly have the most wonderful family life either. The Fabray parents were probably about as emotionally distant as the Lopez parents. Quinn may be higher up financially, but she _did_ pretty much live a homeless life for almost a year. And it was none other than her own father, her own parents who kicked her out.

Now… she was back in her own house, with her father gone and her mother… just there?

Santana didn't know any of the specifics surrounding Quinn's current relationship with her mother. But it made Santana wonder about what it must feel like to suddenly be brought back home after months of no longer seeing it as a home. What must it feel like to walk through those doors and realize you're going to be living on this side of it again? All the while remembering the night you were pushed outside of it and told never to come back.

Did Quinn ever revisit that night whenever she sat in… wherever it was the incident happened? Did flashbacks haunt her whenever she passed that part of the house? Did she avoid it altogether?

Santana wondered what would happen if _she_ ever got to be welcomed back home.

Did she even want to be?

It wasn't a home anymore. Whenever she thought about that house, no matter how positive or bittersweet the memory may be, it would always end at the night her parents stopped being her parents. It would always go straight to the nightmares Santana was constantly reliving.

It _really_ wasn't her home anymore.

Here… this house… _this_ was home. Next to Brittany, the weight of Brittany's arm at her waist, the feel of Brittany's head on her shoulder… _This_ was home. The scent of Brittany's skin, the smoothness of that skin and the softness of her hair. The lightest touch of her fingertips to the tightest grip of her hugs. The gentlest of her pecks, the most desperate of her kisses. The warmth of their closeness…

_This_ was home.

Santana had just come to her second epiphany when she heard footsteps making their way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It wasn't heavy enough to be Mr. Pierce.

Coming to a quick decision, Santana slowly and carefully untangled herself from Brittany and approached Mrs. Pierce, who was drinking milk from the carton again.

"Hey, Mrs. P."

The sound that left Mrs. Pierce as she jumped in surprise was something between a gasp and a strangled cry. By some miracle, none of the milk spilled.

"Santana!" Mrs. Pierce's eyes looked like large circles. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep." Santana decided to put it at that and leave it at that. She moved on to the next topic before Mrs. Pierce could dwell on it. "I just… this is gonna sound really weird and sappy and sshhhstuff." That was a close one. "But…"

As if sensing that Santana needed time to collect her thoughts, Mrs. Pierce leaned back against the counter and took several long sips.

"I just…" How could she put into words the rush she felt when Rory brought up how the Pierces talked about Santana as if she was their daughter? How could she explain the warmth she felt at realizing that this was home? This was what a home should be like. This was what a family should be like.

It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't trying so hard to be perfect.

And that's what made it perfect.

Even Santana's own thoughts were too jumbled to be able to give a concrete explanation to such an abstract thought.

"Um…" Santana found herself losing all eloquence. "Thanks?"

"If you're thanking me for amusing you by being startled out of my wits, then I'm not going to say that you're welcome."

Santana smiled at this before trying again. "No, I mean… I… You guys have been awesome… really _really_ great to me. Wel—welcoming me… and stuff…" She played with the corner of her shirt and tried not to run and hide from how stupid she sounded. "Just… thanks for that…?"

When Santana finally had the courage to look up from the floor and see Mrs. Pierce's reaction, it was a smile that greeted her. "Get over here." With the milk carton still in one hand, Mrs. Pierce stretched her arms open, inviting Santana in for a hug.

An invitation that Santana took without hesitating.

And again, she felt that satisfying feeling of knowing that this person cared for her and this person had no intention of hurting her. That there was nothing dangerous about this close proximity. Santana was _safe_.

Then Santana began to feel something cool and wet slowly spread over her back, soaking through her shirt. "What's that?"

"Oh, oops!" Mrs. Pierce pulled away from the hug and placed the carton on the counter. Her hand was shiny and soaked. She grinned awkwardly and reached for the nearest towel, eventually bursting into a fit of giggles. "S-sorry! I forgot I was holding that!"

"And now I smell like milk." If something like this had happened to her at school because some kid was being careless and tripped or something, Santana would have been furious and made sure said kid never drank milk again.

But right now, Santana couldn't even feel irritated at all. She found herself joining in Mrs. Pierce's laughter.

"By the way, San—Santana." Mrs. Pierce was still laughing as she half hugged Santana, half dabbed at the back of her shirt. "I stand by what I said before. I enjoy having three amazing daughters. And you're still the special one with bonus points for never having added to my significantly wider hips, which I unfortunately got after shooting out Brittany and Emily."

* * *

><p>At the vibration near her head, Brittany woke up from her light sleep and silenced her phone before it could let out half a ring.<p>

And that half ring hadn't been enough to wake Quinn or Mercedes. They were still sound asleep in their respective spots. Quinn never woke up to claim her sleeping bag.

Brittany looked up at the ceiling and let her phone drop back onto the mattress. She should probably be getting up and waking everyone so they could be ready and in time for school, but it felt wrong to rush them. They were all so… at peace.

Actually, that's what this silence felt like. That quiet when everyone's sleeping and no one's up and hurrying about. There was a faint sound of water running upstairs. Probably Dad taking a shower. But it was so faint, Brittany could easily pretend that it wasn't there, and it was really only silence that could be heard.

Movement next to Brittany drew her attention from the ceiling above to Santana to the right. "Good morning, Sanny."

"Morning." Santana said groggily, shifting position so her arm could wrap itself around Brittany. "Want cereal." She mumbled into Brittany's hair, tickling her scalp.

"I'd ready some for you, but I can't while you're clinging to me like that." Brittany prodded Santana's arm halfheartedly because it was nice to be in this position. To leave Santana's side was actually the last thing Brittany wanted.

It was peaceful here. Soothing and calming.

To the point that Brittany could forget about the election.

Tensing, Brittany severely regretted letting that train of thought reach the station. Now, she was worrying. Now, she was thinking about the likelihood of her losing to Rick the Stick or Kurt. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Kurt won. At least he was a unicorn, too. And he'd probably be willing to listen to Brittany's suggestions for stuff. But if Rick the Stick won…

Brittany didn't even want to imagine that kind of fate.

Santana seemed to sense the change in Brittany's mood because she sounded a lot more awake when she said, "What's up?"

"Just worried and nervous." Brittany admitted, distractedly using her finger to trace Santana's arm. "It's voting day and I'm scared of finding out the results."

The sudden tension in Santana's body hinted that she'd forgotten that it was today, but instead of dwelling on that, Santana made sure to tighten her hold on Brittany and say, "It'll be fine, Britt. I know you're gonna win."

"You sound so sure."

"Because bicorns make awesome presidents."

Brittany couldn't stop a dopey grin from spreading over her face, and she craned her neck up to be able to kiss Santana's jaw. While Santana giggled at this, Brittany snuggled closer. "And this awesome bicorn spread magic sprinkles in every classroom when she went campaigning yesterday."

There was tension in Santana again. "You did?"

Guessing that Santana was going to start feeling guilty about missing out on it, Brittany said, "Yeah. It was easy enough. It went okay."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there…"

Brittany poked Santana's shoulder. "I'm not holding that against you. It's okay. Okay?"

"Okay." The sound of Santana's halfhearted response was enough to tell Brittany that the guilt was still there, barely affected.

"Thanks for believing in me though." Brittany tried to shift attention away from that topic by bringing up what she'd overheard last night. Or rather… earlier this morning. "And you know all of us here really love you, right? And you're welcome here and you're family. You're my Stitch and my _ohana_."

Santana's hug tightened. "I'm fluffy."

Brittany reached up and ruffled Santana's hair, which got really thick and wavy in the morning. "Really fluffy."

"You overheard me and your mom talking last night, didn't you?"

Was she that obvious? Brittany woke up when Santana stood up to talk to Mom, and Brittany was supposed to follow, but when it started to seem like a private conversation, she decided to leave them be and try to go back to sleep.

She couldn't help but overhear though. And the things that she heard made her feel warm and fuzzy like that time they watched Lilo and Stitch and the movie got to that part in the ending where Stitch was accepted as a member of their family and welcomed with open arms.

But of course that feeling was a lot more intense than when they were just watching the movie because this was their life. This was Santana.

Under her tough exterior, Santana was a good person, no matter what everyone says about her, no matter what assumptions people make about her. She deserved to feel loved and welcomed and part of something. She deserved to have a home where she belonged and people who accepted her for who she was.

And that's what Brittany loved so much about what she'd overheard between her mother and Santana. "Quinn and Mercedes must be really deep sleepers for not waking up to mom's seriously loud laugh."

"She does have a loud laugh." Santana said, and after being quiet for a moment, added, "You know… I couldn't sleep last night… and I got to thinking…"

Brittany slept lightly, but she still managed to get some rest. It worried her that Santana hardly slept. It was nice to know that there was no nightmare last night, but it was more alarming to suspect that there might have been no sleep.

"About what?"

"My parents… and your parents." Santana said, then she hesitated again.

Going back to tracing shapes along Santana's arm, Brittany patiently waited for Santana to say what was on her mind. She guessed that this was one of the reasons why Santana had been distant yesterday. Whatever Rory said to get Santana out of it that afternoon must have been really effective, and Brittany was grateful.

She'd figure out a way to thank him one of these days. Maybe after Sectionals.

"Dad's got… a lot of issues." Santana spoke softly, like she felt uncomfortable and uncertain. "And I _really_ don't want to turn out like him."

"You won't." If there was anything Brittany could be one hundred and fifty-five percent sure of, it was this. Santana was never going to turn out like her father. Finn had more chances of losing weight and becoming a ballerina than Santana had of becoming like Mr. Lopez.

"Y'know… the more I think about it… the more I feel like… all the stuff I thought was normal and okay…" Santana's body was tense again, and her hand was suddenly clutching Brittany's shirt in a tight grip that stretched the cloth.

"Like his anger… and his… way of…" The cloth stretched further as Santana's grip grew tighter. "Of… of…" Santana squirmed and shifted position so she could hide her head in Brittany's shoulder. The grip Santana had on Brittany's shirt never loosened. "of… dealing with me."

Brittany was tempted to interrupt and try reassuring Santana, but it seemed that she was in a whole other place right now, seeing and reliving things that only her eyes could glimpse. Brittany could only take quick little peeks, see brief flashes. It was Santana who was seeing it all and using Brittany as an anchor amidst the sea of memories and flashbacks.

"Like… I look at your Dad and I think of Mercedes's and Berry's and Kurt's… and… and then I think of mine and Quinn's and Puck's… and I guess even Blaine's maybe?" From her spot on Brittany's shoulder, Santana shook her head slightly. "It's not… not supposed to be normal. That's why you guys… ND and everyone… that's why it's such a big deal for you guys whenever Puck or Quinn complain about their dads and I was just… I've just been trying so hard not to think of my own."

The feel of her shirt slowly growing moist and sticking to her shoulder was enough to tighten Brittany's heart and rush her into pulling Santana closer. She stroked Santana's hair, hoping the gesture that usually helped soothe her would work again now.

For a moment, they stayed that way, quietly drawing strength from each others' presence and proximity. The mere thought of Santana growing up in a house where outbursts of rage happened so often, she thought it was normal… it made Brittany sad and angry in equal measure. She couldn't trust her voice right now, or even herself to say the right thing in the right way.

"He's not… evil." Santana was still defending her father. Brittany just couldn't understand how this could be, but she kept herself from interrupting. "Hell, he's usually got a lot more control than I do." The grasp she had on Brittany's shirt loosened slightly, but she didn't let go completely. "But… I just… I've been looking back and I can barely believe how much stuff I just… overlooked or erased…"

If Brittany ever saw Mr. Lopez again, it would be too soon. She just couldn't get over how many times she'd been in that house and how many times she'd smiled at him before going home, not knowing what kind of man he was when the doors were closed and the lights were out. She hated him for everything he'd put Santana through over the years, and over the past couple of weeks.

And Mrs. Lopez? Brittany was disgusted with that woman for staying with a man like that. For doing nothing as her daughter was beaten. For participating in her daughter's banishment.

It just… it wasn't _right_.

It wasn't right at all.

"But y'know…" Santana went on, her grip loosening a little more but still without letting go. "In a weird way… it makes me… more thankful. For… y'know… for your parents. And how they've been towards me."

"We're always going to love you, Santana." Brittany forced the hatred aside and spoke of love instead. "You're safe with us."

After that brief moment spent shedding tears she must have been holding in, Santana seemed a little calmer. Brittany felt half grateful for this happening on its own, and half frustrated with herself for having so little to say and for being so unsure of how to deal with this.

"I dunno if I'm ever going to stop thinking about them… or… _caring_ about them." Santana went on, "Coz they were still… decent people… years ago. But like… I…" Santana's hand finally relaxed and let go of Brittany's shirt, but her arm still remained draped over Brittany's waist.

"Y'know, I realized something else last night, too."

"What might that be?" Brittany continued to stroke Santana's hair, using the motion to calm her own anger and dull the burning hatred this conversation reawakened.

"I don't want to go back there." Santana said. "I mean… Quinn still got to go home after they kicked her out."

It was strange to be thinking about that time again, given these circumstances.

With the way Quinn behaved, and the way she almost never talked about her father, one could almost forget how Quinn's sophomore year had played out. Brittany felt more sympathetic towards Quinn after remembering this, but she also felt frustrated again. From her standpoint, Quinn would know more than anyone else how it would feel for someone to be disowned by their parents. She should have known the right things to say to Santana… or something.

"Me, I never want to go back to living with them." Santana continued, "It's… it's not home anymore. If I ever go back there, it's just… it's not gonna to be the same."

"Yeah…" Brittany almost went into a string of how bad the Lopez parents were and how they didn't deserve to have Santana in their house. And if they ever extended an invitation again, Brittany would explode with rage.

She just barely managed to stop herself and settled with stroking Santana's hair. She focused on how each strand felt between her fingers.

"_This_ is home." For the first time since the start of this conversation, Brittany heard Santana's voice rise on a positive, almost happy note.

"You wanna drive today?"

Santana moved slightly away from Brittany, just to get a better look at her face. "What?"

Brittany didn't know what to say to Santana, and she didn't know how she was supposed to respond to revelations and epiphanies like these, so she did what she did best. And Brittany knew that it's been a while since Santana last drove, and maybe she'd like it this time as much as she did last time.

"I said… do you wanna drive today?"

Santana's face lit up, and the pinkness of her eyes grew less obvious. "Sure."

* * *

><p>Call it petty, but Santana felt like it was a good day every time Brittany let her take the wheel.<p>

There was something about being in control of a vehicle that lifted Santana's mood. It helped her feel less like the universe had her tightly shackled and pulled her along its chosen path without giving a damn about how many times she tripped over or crashed into an overlooked obstacle. It gave her a sense of being in charge of something.

The destination was still determined, and the car wasn't exactly hers, but Santana still liked how she had a say in which road to go, what route to take, how fast to go, which turns to take, when to stop.

She also enjoyed the feeling of being so completely trusted by Brittany, that she would just hand her car over to Santana with no strings attached. Brittany didn't even make any comments whenever Santana took an alternate route.

Brittany trusted Santana. Trusted her to get them all to school just fine.

From their spots in the backseat, Quinn and Mercedes didn't have much to say, either. But that wasn't surprising since they were out cold again.

Santana couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't as sleepy. They all lacked sleep after rehearsing and choreographing late into the night, and Santana had even less rest than they did because she spent a good hour or so chatting with Mrs. Pierce.

She had what? An hour of sleep? Two at the most.

Still, those one or two hours of sleep felt _glorious_.

The mere fact that she got no visits from Mr. Lopez or Mrs. Lopez or Rick the Stick or Josh Coleman or even Finn last night was the most rejuvenating part of Santana's sleep, really. Actually, _that_ could be why she felt bizarrely well rested right now.

That and talking to Britany about the things that were weighing Santana down last night felt… good.

It was still intimidating to talk about feelings, and Santana still wasn't exactly used to opening herself up so much or digging so deep into herself. But she couldn't deny the proven, undisputable fact that with feelings, it _is_ better.

At a stoplight, Santana was going to turn to Brittany and say this, but the thought was stopped dead upon the sight of her face.

There was tension in her features, clearly exhibiting that worries were tormenting her mind.

"What's on your mind, Britts?" Santana asked, just as the green light flashed.

"Just… nervous."

"The election?" Santana still cursed herself for actually forgetting that voting day was today. And for forgetting to help Brittany with campaigning. And for not being there when Brittany went from room to room yesterday. That was a crazy risk Brittany took, putting herself in a position where she could be ridiculed by a room full of people who were already busy doing something else and weren't expecting to be interrupted. What if one of the jocks or former Cheerios had interrupted her with some foul comment? What if some guy tried to harass her?

Though Brittany had assured her that it went well and nothing bad happened and teachers were willing enough to spare five minutes or so of their time, Santana still didn't feel comfortable with it. And she wasn't ready to forgive herself for not being there to protect Brittany.

"I think Lord Tubbington's been ditching his trainer and hasn't been making full use of his gym membership." Brittany said. "I blame the Chihuahua next door. She's a bad influence."

"Brittany…" Santana raised her eyebrow and spared a quick look away from the road to glance at Brittany.

She sighed, folded her arms across her chest and slouched in her seat. "Yeah, the election."

"Hey, you'll be fine." Santana reassured her. "I'm gonna vote for you and you're gonna win this damn thing because you've got the kind of magic that no one else has and it's going to win the voters over and you'll be President Brittany by the end of the day and I'll be your First Lady." That whole sentence came out in one breath, and by the time it was out, Santana had to inhale in deep gasps.

This seemed to amuse Brittany, because she started giggling for a while before touching Santana's hand. "Thanks, San."

The rest of the way to school, Brittany seemed to be in a better mood, but it plummeted by the end of the hour. As the day progressed, Brittany grew increasingly tense, and could only flash forced smiles at Santana's attempts to cheer her up and reassure her that she was so going to win this thing.

By the time they got to the period solely devoted to voting, Brittany looked so close to panicking and running in circles, flailing. While people lined up and acted relatively normally, Brittany was pacing back and forth anxiously. Santana had to grab her by the shoulders to physically stop her.

"_Britt_." Santana said, squeezing Brittany's shoulders to get her attention. She still looked incredibly nervous, but she managed to meet Santana's eyes with wide, frightened ones of her own. "_You've got this_. Think for a second, okay? Rick's suspended and he's a douche. The only people who'll be voting for him are probably his hockey jerks. Kurt? He's okay, but he just hasn't got the votes. You, everyone freaking knows your name and everyone cheered like hell during your speech at the gym, remember?"

As an afterthought, Santana added, "But if you seriously go for Topless Tuesday, _I am fucking sewing a bra onto your skin_."

"But you don't know how to sew…"

Santana rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips. Brittany being Brittany. "I'll google how to sew just for that."

"I'm sorry, I'm just really really scared of seeing the results." Brittany admitted.

Santana lowered her hands from Britany's shoulders to her hands. "Look…" Brittany's hands were trembling, and Santana squeezed them, hoping to convey how much faith she had in Brittany through the grip. "I've said this like a hundred times today, but I'll say it a billion times more coz it's true._ I believe in you_."

Though there were some very small particles of doubt in Santana, she was still ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent sure that Brittany would win. Rick the Stick, as far as Santana could recall, was really only popular with the hockey guys. Had he been a football player, he would have had a better chance. Kurt on the other hand, as good as his intentions are, just doesn't have the school's support.

"And I _know_ you're going to win this." Santana said, "Now you just wait here for a second, and I'll get you a bottle of Nestea or something to calm you down. Okay?" She guided Brittany to a chair, which she collapsed onto almost instantly, as if her legs had been just waiting for the right moment to give way.

"I like the green tea one." Brittany's reply sounded distracted, but at least it didn't sound panic-stricken. Santana took that as progress.

"I know." Santana smiled, gave Brittany's hand another squeeze, and made a quick run for the cafeteria. There, she bought two bottles and headed back to the gym, but was stopped by Coach Sylvester.

"Boobinator, I gotta talk to you for a second."

Not comfortable with leaving Brittany without Mercedes, Quinn or Sugar to accompany her, Santana hoped that whatever Coach Sylvester was going to say, she was going to say quickly. "What?"

Coach Sylvester frowned slightly. "Don't use that tone with me." She paused, as if waiting for Santana to say something, which she didn't. "Anyway, it's about that damned campaign ad that's tried to ruin us both."

_Tried_?

_Both_?

Santana was tempted to snap something, but remembered that she was wearing her Cheerio uniform again. And there are just some things that one may not say to their cheerleading coach.

"I've been working on getting it taken down. Filed complaints. The whole deal." Coach Sylvester said, "And if that sleazy guy I paid off is true to his word, there won't be anymore of that ad by the end of the week."

That… was… interesting?

Santana couldn't figure out what she felt about this news. She should be glad that she wouldn't have to quickly flip channels on the tv or switch stations on the radio anymore. This was something she was supposed to be thrilled about, but she didn't feel too much like celebrating.

It just… it felt too little, too late.

Still, Santana had to give Coach Sylvester credit for her effort. "Thanks, coach. That's awesome to hear."

Coach Sylvester smiled, "And I'm going to rant at length about this issue tonight at Sue's Corner. Have your TV ready for my face, alright?"

"Er…" Santana couldn't make any promises since Rory and Emily usually took control of the remote once they got home. Brittany and Santana just joined them if something interesting was on. "We'll try to catch it." Either way, tonight was going to be filled up by rehearsals in Quinn's place, and Santana highly doubted that there would be any time to watch.

"Great." Coach Sylvester nodded and began to step away. "Now I've got to get going. I'll see you at practice, Sandbags. And tell your girlfriend I wished her good luck."

Well at least Coach Sylvester made sure not to say anything degrading about Brittany. She probably was afraid of losing more of her customized sculptures. The idea made Santana grin as she entered the gym.

But soon enough, Santana found herself frowning as she spotted a guy talking to Brittany. From their body language, it was clear that something was off. The guy was leaning forward, being invasive, while Brittany was standing up and leaning away, hugging herself.

And by the time Santana was within hearing distance, she was out for blood.

"I mean, it's a sweet deal, ain't it? You get my vote, and I get a ticket to your bed. Win-win!" Santana picked up her pace while removing the cover of one of the bottles. "I mean if you want your fuck body to be in on it, I wouldn't mind that, either. I mean a threesome sounds awesome!"

If she couldn't make a scene by beating the crap out of this creep, then at least she could do this.

Santana went up behind the guy and poured her drink all over his head, even following him and pouring down his back and shoulders when he gasped and tried to squirm away. "And that's _not_ the worst I can do. Get your ass out of here before I kick you right in the nuts, left or right or both. That's your choice, man."

Swearing and spluttering, the guy left them alone almost immediately.

"Thanks for your defensive magic, my unicorn." Brittany said, "I tried to tell him no and to go away, but he wouldn't stop talking. And then I felt angry and scared at the same time. Angry because he's a jerk. And then scared because what if he's right? What if I'm not going to get enough votes?"

Brittany was so close to freaking out again, and even if Santana still had violent thoughts running through her mind, she forced herself to calm down and focus on Brittany. The guy got what he deserved and that was settled.

Now, Brittany needed her attention.

"Britt, you know who you sound like right now?" Santana handed Brittany the bottle that was still full and placed the one that was already empty on the chair.

Brittany tilted her head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy.

"Me." Santana said, "When I get nervous and petty. Like all you need to do right now is start pacing back and forth and yelling at Skanks."

"You've yelled at the Skanks?"

Santana nodded, "Yesterday, when I got worried because you came to rehearsal kinda late."

"I do feel like pacing again." Brittany admitted, smiling slightly. "And San, I can't help it. I'm really really really really _really_ nervous."

"Yeah, well me," Santana reached out and held Brittany's free hand. "I'm really really really _really_ sure that you're gonna win this."

Maybe it was because confronting the guy still had Santana fired up. Maybe her joy at hearing the news of the campaign ad being taken down was finally at her doorstep. Maybe it was just Brittany being fucking adorable.

Whatever it was, it did what it did. Santana found herself lifting Brittany's hand and kissing her knuckles. "You're magic, remember?"

Before Brittany could say or do anything else besides grin ear to ear, Jacob Ben Israel showed up saying he had to interview them. Santana noted how he kept a considerable distance between them now, compared to the past interviews. Back then, he'd be so close, his hair could almost touch them, and it always made Santana's skin crawl.

Jacob started with facing his cameraman and saying, "I don't have to ask who you lovely ladies are voting for."

Of course he didn't. Santana leaned forward into his microphone and said, "I'm Team Britt all the way."

"I'm voting for Lord Tubbington."

"I don't believe write-ins apply here the way they do for Prom King and Queen," Jacob Ben Israel turned back to the camera, "But I wouldn't worry too much about a spare vote here and there, Brittany. Despite controversy stirred up by future First Lady Lopez's outing, my polls are still putting you well ahead of Lady Hummel and Lady Stick. You've got better hair and boobs than either of them, too."

Seeing Brittany start to really light up at being presented more evidence showing her chances of winning gave Santana another burst of shamelessness. She placed a hand on Brittany's shoulder and pulled her over so she could receive a kiss on the cheek, despite the camera still rolling.

Jacob moved closer to the camera, probably giving anyone who'll view it a gross high-def shot of his face. "This election is _over_!"

After, Jacob nervously thanked them and hurried over to Kurt.

"See?" Santana said, unable to stop herself from smiling as Brittany happily swayed side to side. "I told you you've got this."

Still unable to wipe the grin off her face, Brittany whispered to Santana, "It's because of your unicorn kiss."

"Duh, my kisses are made of powerful magic."

Just then, Tina and Mike went over to them. Normally, the couple was really at ease. Never before had they behaved in the tense, nervous way they were acting now.

"Hey, you guys…" Tina said, sounding smaller and more shy than usual. She seemed to be leaning into Mike for support.

"We just wanted to wish you luck…" The smile Mike gave them was just as uncomfortable as his rigid posture.

Santana wasn't the only one who noticed. Brittany did, too. "You guys okay? Did Santa's elves accidentally give you coal early?"

Mike rubbed the back of his head, clearly uneasy. He glanced at Tina and then at the floor and finally, focused on Brittany's face. "Look… I've never really been that good with words so… y'know… like… just… just bear with me for a sec, okay?" At Brittany's confused nod, Mike continued, "We've… we've y'know… known each other for a pretty long time. We've been to so many dance competitions and workshops together. And…"

The bob of his Adam's apple was obvious as Mike swallowed nervously. "I shouldn't have assumed that you didn't get Santana's situation. I'm sorry." At this, he awkwardly glanced at Santana. "And like… if any of you…. Either of you need any help with anything…" He shrugged. "Anything at all. Dance practice, bullies, physics, how to play Skyrim, homework… Anything at all. Tina and I are just a text or an IM away."

After saying his piece, Mike put his hands in his pockets and awaited Brittany's judgement. Which came in the form of a hug that surprised him. "Thanks, Mike. I've missed talking to my fellow dancing ninja."

"Yeah, we've got some catching up to do." Mike returned the hug.

Santana felt a little left out, but she liked how Mike made it a point to look at her and include her in his offer.

Tina was next to address Brittany. "I'm sorry too about what happened in the choir room." She nervously toyed with her sleeve before adding, "After I had so many people disregard me before glee happened, just because I was shy… it… it was wrong of me to do the same and make assumptions about you, Britt."

One of Brittany's arms let go of Mike and gestured for Tina to join them. "I can't stay mad at you guys."

"Y'know… even if we're on rival glee clubs now," Tina continued speaking as she joined the group hug. "I'd still like to think of both of you as friends. And I hope we can be closer."

"Santana, get over here." Brittany said, using a tone that made it almost sound like an order. With a bit of amusement, Santana complied.

That feeling was there again, striking her unexpectedly. The warmth of being welcomed. Of being included.

This was what Santana had been missing out on all those years she used snark and rudeness to keep people from getting too close to her, just because she considered herself too aggressive to be accepted by anyone outside of the Pierces.

This was proof that she wasn't as horrible and unlovable as she'd first thought.

When they finally broke apart, Brittany said, "I'd love for us to hang out more. We're not seeing each other as often as we used to since TT happened."

"Yeah, maybe after Sectionals we can get together and do something." Tina said.

"Well I've been wanting to try out the Lima Bean." Santana was surprised to find herself joining in and actively making a suggestion.

Mike agreed with it in an instant. "Totally! Blaine and Kurt won't shut up about that place."

"Speaking of Kurt and Blaine…" Brittany's smile faded as she glanced in Kurt's direction. He was being interviewed by Jacob now, with Blaine and Finn on either side of him. "May I ask who you guys are voting for? Because I'm gonna vote for Lord Tubbington. Or Santa."

Mike and Tina reflected Brittany's uneasiness, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Mike was the one who took it upon himself to answer Brittany. "We couldn't decide between you and Kurt."

"So we decided to split it." Tina explained.

"I'd vote for Brittany and Tina votes for Kurt." They were uneasy again, but when Brittany smiled, both relaxed. Either these two really sucked at hiding their emotions, or Santana was starting to acquire Brittany's skill at reading people.

"Sounds good to me." Brittany said.

* * *

><p>As she stood in line, waiting for her turn to enter the booth and vote, Quinn found her thoughts wandering over to Kurt, who looked pale and ready to faint as Finn, Rachel and Blaine spoke to him, probably attempting to reassure him.<p>

It was likely none of them were voting for Brittany, and after thinking about it, Quinn couldn't blame them. She herself liked what Kurt stood for. He was speaking out against bullying, and that in itself could be one of the most amazing and significant platforms any candidate has ever put forth. And even if they'd all seen Brittany explode after their assumptions against her intelligence, Quinn knew that it was still difficult for them to have all that much faith in Brittany as president.

In fact, up until yesterday, Quinn still had doubts about just how good of a president Brittany could be.

Until she heard the small speech Brittany gave when she came into the classroom. She talked about wanting to bring magic to McKinley by making it a better place where no one would have to be afraid of rounding a corner and walking right into a slushie facial. She wanted people to feel safe at this school. And after that, she blurted out several extravagant ideas meant to get the students worked up. Things like a chocolate vending machine or robot teachers and talking elevators.

That was when Quinn noticed Brittany's technique. It was like she purposely did and said things to twist a situation to her advantage just like how she appealed to the shallow desires of the petty and ignorant majority.

And that was why Quinn had decided to vote for Brittany.

She was just about to enter the booth when Sugar came running over with a panic-stricken face. "Quinn! Quinn! Quinn! _Quiiiiiiinnnnnn_!"

"What?" Quinn gestured for the guy behind her to go ahead so she could talk to Sugar.

Once she was in front of Quinn, Sugar went right on to what she had to say. "I was supposed to freak out to Mercedes about this, but she's busy freaking out about being torn between her best boy Kurt and her best girl Brittany. Anyway, it's about Susan."

That sophomore had seriously issues. Quinn saw firsthand how Susan and her minions treated Brittany, and was infuriated by it. And this was after they no longer had power and influence as Cheerios. Quinn could only imagine how bad it must have been when they were still on the team and managed to ostracize Santana and Brittany.

"What about her?"

"Yesterday in class, I overheard her talking about meeting up with that Rick the Stick guy." Sugar made a face and couldn't resist adding her own side comment, "And by the way, his hair is totally… _yuck_. I'd be shaving it off of his head myself if I didn't have the money to pay someone to do that."

What would a girl like Susan want with a guy like Rick the Stick? The only thing Quinn could think of was hooking up with him for popularity points. But that didn't make too much sense since the guy was suspended right now and he wasn't too high up on the social ladder. "Did you hear why they were meeting up?"

Sugar shook her head. "I couldn't catch that, but I kind of passed by her and her girls just now and I overheard them talking about it again, and she said their meeting last night turned out well."

"They could just be hooking up." Quinn let the next two girls behind her overtake her so she could carry on with her conversation. "Or Rick might be trying to get her to help him campaign… or something."

"I dunno…" Sugar said, "There's just something about the way she was being all sneaky and secretive about it with her girls that just bothers me. Like she'd lower her voice everytime she got more specific. And I… I just have this really _really_ bad feeling about her."

Quinn thought it over for a moment before responding, "We don't know anything for sure, so I don't think it's worth panicking about just yet. We could tell Brittany and Santana, but not right now. I'm pretty sure that they're way too worked up at the moment to handle any other stress."

Sugar's head bobbed up and down as she nodded vigorously.

"So maybe let's just bring this up with them later, after the results come out. And then Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, you and I can talk this over and figure it out."

Sugar agreed to this and left Quinn to finally get in the booth and vote for Brittany

After Quinn was done, she went out and spotted Rachel by herself. Kurt probably left with Blaine, and Finn might still be voting. Whatever the reason for Rachel to be alone at this moment, Quinn figured she might as well take advantage of it while she could, and strode over.

"Hey, Rachel," Quinn said, "How's it going with the Bully Whips proposal?" Kurt was probably too worried about the election to be able to answer properly if Quinn had chosen to ask him. Rachel was her best bet, and upon hearing the question, she flashed a huge smile that told Quinn this was going to be good news.

"Figgins approved it this morning!" Rachel practically squealed out her words, even bouncing a little.

"That's amazing!" Quinn found herself smiling, too. With the Bully Whips carrying out their duties, Azimio, Susan, and anyone else like them had less chances of behaving poorly and getting away with it. They'd actually be facing consequences now.

The pessimistic side of Quinn brought up the idea that the Bully Whips might make a lot of enemies, and it had the potential to worsen the situation. Bullies might actually grow more aggressive and defiant, might even make specific targets out of Bully Whips members.

But before Quinn could completely board that train of thought, Rachel, caught up in the excitement of announcing the approval, closed the distance between Quinn and herself with a tight hug.

Quietly telling herself to lighten up, Quinn decided that if such a scenario happened, they would deal with it and figure it out. But it wasn't happening now, so they was no reason to worry about it at this moment. She kept herself in the present and hugged Rachel back.

"Wow, get a room, you two." Santana interrupted. "Or if it really can't wait, get your thing done in one of those booths at least."

"Santana!" Breaking away from the hug, Quinn felt her face heat up as she was hit by the full weight of what Santana was implying.

"That's hot."

"Brittany!" Quinn looked from one to the other and wished she had a witty retort at the ready, just to wipe off the smug faces they were exchanging.

Rachel took it in stride and just smiled, "I'm sorry to disappoint you two, but we're staying right here. We wouldn't want to get accused of tampering the ballots."

Santana raised an eyebrow at Rachel before changing the tone of the conversation when she addressed Quinn. "Q, we were gonna ask you if we still have to bring our own sleeping bags and shit, or if you've any at your place."

Quinn recalled only having one or two spare sleeping bags and a pair of air mattresses. With six people sleeping over for another night of rehearsals, it might not be enough. "It'd help if you could bring one just in case. I'm not sure if Amanda or Sugar are bringing any." That was something Quinn could have asked Sugar a moment ago.

"Well we're seeing them later, we could ask them then." Brittany said.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt your planning and preparation… but might I have a word with you, Brittany?" Rachel spoke in a whisper that sounded unusual, given how frequently she made sure everyone could hear her. "And you, too, Santana."

Realizing that Rachel was going to apologize, Quinn took a few steps back to give them some space.

* * *

><p>It was nice to hear Rachel's apology. She admitted to her tendency to be stuck-up and forget about how other people might feel. She owned up to the fact that she sometimes thought too much about competitions and not enough about people.<p>

Brittany felt better to a certain extent because this was one of those moments when someone's unexpected goodness catches her by surprise. Magic may be painfully hard to find, and there was hardly any hope for a good, safe future for herself and Santana here, but Rachel's apology seemed like a sign. A sign that magic was still possible. It still existed.

It was rare. Endangered.

But not extinct.

With these thoughts in mind, Brittany felt a little more at ease as the Troubletones gathered together in their choir room, agreeing to hear the announcement before starting on anything else.

There was still magic, and it might still allow her a win even if she was a bicorn that so few people could understand.

Several hours had passed since voting time came to an end and the ballots were taken to be counted. Even though she wasn't panicking and ready to pass out anymore, Brittany still felt anxious.

Anxious enough that her bladder was beginning to act up. Brittany stood up abruptly and made her announcement. "I'm going to the bathroom."

"They're going to make the announcement any minute now." Quinn said.

"You want me to come with you?" Santana offered.

Brittany waved her off. "Stay here and listen in case I don't hear it from toilet land." When Santana looked like she was about to protest, Brittany hugged her and whispered, "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Santana had every reason to worry and Brittany couldn't blame her. In the past two days, Brittany had to deal with three incidents without Santana anywhere nearby. Jacob being inappropriate, Susan being threatening, and that guy a while ago being gross and rude. Two out of those three incidents, Brittany had been too stunned to properly defend herself.

But there was a reason why Brittany preferred that Santana stay. "If I win or if I lose, and I'm not the one who heard the announcement, I want to hear it from you. If I don't hear it from Figgins' voice running through the school, then I want you to be the first person to tell me."

It was probably a silly reason. If Brittany had said it louder, no one else in the choir room would understand. Brittany herself could barely formulate a proper understanding of it in her head. "News like this is special and… you're special and… that's how it should be."

Though Santana still didn't quite approve, she smiled and prodded Brittany's nose. "Fine. But can I at least send a bodyguard with you?"

Brittany smiled because she could clearly imagine Santana being the kind of mom that would stalk their children and chaperone every date. "Okay, I'll bring Quinn since girls never go to the bathroom alone anyway."

"Exactly."

When they asked Quinn, she had no problem with accompanying Brittany. The walk over was quiet at first, until Quinn asked a question that caught Brittany by surprise.

"What are you _really_ planning to do when you become president?"

First, Quinn said _when_ Brittany became president. She sounded really sure. Maybe not as aggressively convinced as Santana, but still noticeably confident in Brittany's chances of winning. Next, it was the question itself. Quinn was asking what Brittany was _really_ planning to do.

"You heard my campaign. I said I'd bring in flying unicorns and robot teachers and Topless Tuesday."

Quinn raised an eyebrow like she didn't believe a word of it. "You didn't say anything about flying unicorns when you spoke during my class. And I would remember if you said Topless Tuesday again, because last time caused the biggest riot."

"Well… something along those lines…" Brittany was still too shocked to be able to give any real answers, and her mouth was in its autopilot mode, blurting out the non-answers that were always at the ready. "As long as there's an army of robot teachers riding unicorns led by Lord Tubbington in a tutu and riding a flying cow, then that's the basic idea."

"Brittany, come on." Quinn said. "I know you said something about making the school a safer place."

This must be the first time Brittany noticed Quinn making any sincere effort to truly decode the riddles Brittany tended to put into her words. It was mindboggling and touching and… Brittany just had to take a moment to be quiet and let this realization sink in.

Quinn seemed to get the idea and didn't pressure Brittany to speak, for which she was thankful.

Eventually, Brittany felt ready to give a response to Quinn. About maybe plans to make things better for unicorns like Santana and Kurt and Blaine. Brittany also wanted to figure out more projects like the Bully Whips. Bullying just couldn't keep going on anymore. To anyone. Not just Santana, Kurt or Blaine. But people like Artie, Tina, Rachel… everyone who isn't a cheerleader or a jock. Or maybe just… _everyone_. Like Brittany dreamed of a brilliant world where there was no bullying at all.

Brittany was just opening her mouth to answer when a voice coming from behind the bathroom door reached their ears. A voice that was instantly recognizable, and capable of automatically waking Brittany's anger.

Bennet.

The sudden urge to burst in and confront her tempted Brittany, but she forced herself to stay still and remember what Mom said about choosing the right time and staying in control.

"I don't fucking know what I'm supposed to do now!" Bennet was yelling. "I mean I thought that Susan had my back. Now… Damn that bitch, she won't even talk to me anymore!"

As the words began to sink in, the potentially explosive burst of anger dimmed and gave way to confusion. Brittany looked at Quinn and saw a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes that showed she was listening to the conversation too.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now? You know, before that bitch started talking to me, I never even thought about taking Santana's spot as captain." Bennet's voice was shrill and… Brittany thought it actually sounded pained, too. Desperate and lost. "I just wanted Santana and her gross gayness and that freak Brittany to be gone. Being captain was never in my head 'till _Susan_ put it there! _It's her fucking fault I'm fucking stuck in this fucked up mess!_"

"Brittany…" Quinn said, "I…" She hesitated, frowned. "What can you make of that?"

"She's… having a hard time." Which was nothing less than what she deserved. The morbid thought was one that Brittany kept to herself because Quinn didn't need to hear it. "And if what she says is true…" And not just flimsy excuses and attempts at blaming everyone but herself. "Then we might have to really keep an eye on Susan."

"She seems…" Quinn shook her head, "I don't know. I just… don't feel comfortable with this."

"Look, Bennet," That was another voice, probably the girl Bennet had been venting to. "I hope things work out for you, but I've really gotta go."

"But-"

"I've still gotta pick up my brother and I'm running late."

Too late, Brittany and Quinn tried to scramble away from the door. It had already been opened and put them face to face with a girl who was staring at them in shock. In the awkward stillness that followed, where no one moved or said anything, Brittany caught sight of Bennet, whose face was damp and eyes were red.

"I gotta go." The girl squeezed her way through the space between Quinn and the doorframe and hurried away.

Then Bennet snapped out of her shock and her face twisted into something that looked almost like anger, but not quite. "_You_! You're fucking disgusting, screwing around with anyone and everyone. You and Santana are… are-are gross and creepy and-and I'm never getting over how disturbing it is that we've all dressed up in front of each other or formed pyramids and given you the fucking perfect opportunity to look up our skirts and-"

"That's enough." Quinn took a step forward and used a tone that sounded somewhere between command and threat.

"You shut your fucking mouth, _Quinn Fabray_." Bennet spat the name out like it tasted vile on her tongue. "It's all fine for you to be out of your uniform. You don't have your parents all over you for it!"

Brittany saw Quinn tense at this, almost like she was recoiling from a blow. Bennet had no idea what she was talking about. She was just making assumptions she had no business making. "Bennet, leave Quinn out of this." All this tension and rivalry and hatred was just between Santana and Brittany, and the former Cheerios. Quinn had no part in it and didn't need Bennet dragging her in.

"I'll do whatever I want!" Bennet retorted, sounding more like a child throwing a tantrum than anything else. "And dammit, you're not gonna talk all about how it's _love_ with you and Santana, or about that magic shit you blabber on about all the time. None of the shit you can say is gonna change how fucking freaked out I feel about the fact that you and Santana are fucking _gay_."

"I think I'm bi." Was the first thing Brittany could think of saying in response. "Or pan."

Bennet spluttered and waved her hands in the air before she regained her hold on words. "That doesn't make it any less _creepy_!" She took several steps that brought her closer, and Brittany tensed in case another slap was coming. "And it's fucked up that you're whatever the hell you are and Santana's whatever the fuck she is and you're both freaking the ones heading the team and I'm normal and I'm—I'm the one not wearing that damn uniform!"

Unexpectedly, she turned on Quinn, "And what you fucking saw doesn't fucking count!" Brittany frowned and looked at Quinn for an explanation. "I only wear the damn thing in the morning before going to school and in the afternoon before going home. That… I just feel like it, okay!"

"Is it because-"

"I have to fucking go through all that trouble and you don't!" Bennet didn't give Quinn time to finish and just went on with her rant. "It's not fucking fair! I don't… I don't get it at all! I don't get how you and Santana can get it on like she's a guy."

Brittany was going to try to retort and tell Bennet she was a coldblooded frog for not being able to understand love, but didn't get the chance. Bennet was hardly pausing to breathe.

"I don't get how you get to stay on the team. I don't get how Susan's still got the energy to go on and on about how it ain't right that Santana's captain again when I can barely get out of bed." Bennet's voice wavered in its steadiness, and she started to look less like an angry, raging lion with a bleached mane, and more like a lost girl with no one to turn to. "I don't know how I'm supposed to tell my parents that the fucking _lesbian_ they saw on their fucking tv is the fucking reason why _I'm not a fucking Cheerio anymore_."

It was a strange feeling that Brittany was experiencing now. There was anger and sympathy going through her at the same time. Each degrading comment about herself and Santana got Brittany all fired up, but each glance at those wet, red eyes and each time that screaming voice lost its steadiness, sympathy crept ever closer.

Bennet stopped talking and leaned against the sink with one hand while the other covered her eyes. Her response to being removed from the team was a lot different from Susan's. Brittany could tell that much. But what she couldn't figure out was how she was supposed to deal with this.

What was the right thing to do?

Brittany glanced at Quinn and saw similar confusion and turmoil reflected back.

"I just… I don't know how I let all of this happen. How I let everything fucking fall apart." Bennet kept her face covered by her hand, and she wasn't yelling anymore. The words coming out of her now were just a notch above a whisper.

Quinn had her eyes down and her arms around herself as she whispered, "You're not the first person to experience everything falling apart, you know."

"Yeah, I've heard the gossip about Santana, okay." The edge was back in Bennet's voice, but it was gone again the next time she spoke. "I just... don't know what to think anymore. I thought I wanted to be captain. I thought Santana didn't deserve to be. I… I thought the two of you didn't belong on the team. I thought… I thought that what you two are… is… is wrong."

Bennet moved her hand away from her face and looked at Brittany. "I…" She raised her voice again, "I don't fucking know anymore! And I don't fucking know what to do. And I don't fucking know who to talk to. Susan and the others won't even look at me anymore! And you saw how concerned Chelsea was!"

"That's how it felt when you drove us out of the team." Brittany wasn't sure if this was the appropriate thing to say, and found herself mumbling it, half hoping neither Quinn nor Bennet would hear, half hoping that they would.

Static sounded as the PA system in the hallway crackled to life. "The counting of the ballots has at last been completed. And with much hesitancy despite the indisputable results that have been counted and recounted, I regrettably must announce that the winner of this year's election for Student Council President, by a seventy-five percentage of votes, is…"

Figgins paused, adding suspense by sighing to emphasize his regret.

"Brittany Susan Pierce."

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>I've kind of wanted to pause this and update my other fic, Cost of Survival first. But then we're like getting so close now, and I'm thinking of maybe just going all the way through with this and then I'll be able to get on with that other fic after. We'll see. Either way, I'm hoping to update /something/ in two weeks. One or the other. :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Whooooo. We're one chapter away from the end \:D/ (though I might put in an epilogue or something after)

And since the next chapter is the finale, I might take extra long with it because I'm probably gonna be pretty OC with it and it's gotta be all BOOM and SCHAZAM in all the right parts right._ (That, and I have to animate and edit like fifteen scenes; draw and color ten comic pages and two covers; figure out a one-minute experimental animation; and record and edit some voiceovers in the next three weeks or so. Therefore be warned, I'm gonna be swamped and I can't promise a short wait between this chapter and the next)_

Oh, and I just noticed that this chapter's unusually short. Let's just say it's that way coz it's kind of a filler...?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One<strong>

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><p>The moment Brittany entered the choir room, Santana practically bounced over to her. "Did you hear it? Did you hear the news?" If Brittany hadn't, the cheers of celebration coming from the Troubletones and Ms. Corcoran probably already gave away the results.<p>

"Yeah, I heard it." Brittany sounded distracted, which was bizarre considering how worked up she was about this whole thing just moments ago. Santana opened her mouth to ask Brittany what was going on, but as if she could read Santana's mind, Brittany already had the answer ready. "I think we should talk about Bennet sometime."

At the mention of the name, Santana tensed. "Why? Did she do something? Did that bitch hit you again? _What happened_?" She looked over Brittany's shoulder at Quinn, who just looked uncomfortable and shrugged.

"It's nothing, Santana." Brittany tried to pacify Santana. "It's nothing like that." She smiled, and it almost looked genuine. "Let's just celebrate for now, okay?"

Santana narrowed her eyes and regarded Brittany and Quinn with suspicion, but nevertheless managed to nod and say. "Okay. We'll worry about it later." This time, Santana was going to make sure that they actually did get to talk before going to sleep.

If another slap happened… Santana would probably lose it.

* * *

><p>Brittany could see that Santana was still on the edge about it, but they didn't have time to dwell on that, because the Troubletones all swooped in and surrounded her with hugs and cheers and congratulations. Santana ended up being carried along by the moment and eventually decided to just go with the flow than fight the current.<p>

Then the cheers died down as all heads turned to face the doorway upon hearing a knock.

There, they saw Kurt, hunched over with a crestfallen expression, while Blaine, ever at his side, looked sympathetic.

"Hi… I'm… sorry to interrupt." Kurt looked down at his boots and drew a semi-circle with his toe. "I'd… I'd like to speak to you, Brittany. If that's okay."

A quick observation of Kurt's posture and tone didn't hint at any aggression or malice, so Brittany figured that he could be more sad than mad about losing the presidential race to her. Taking Santana's hand because either way, Brittany preferred to have her close, they approached Kurt and Blaine together, stopping just a meter away.

"_Dramaaaaaaaa_."

"Sugar!" Mercedes swatted Sugar's shoulder. "Girl, be quiet!"

Kurt smiled slightly, and a sound that was almost a chuckle left his mouth before he said, "First of all, I'd like to congratulate you on your win, and I hope there are no hard feelings between us because of this."

"Unicorns and bicorns can't stay mad at each other forever when they're in the same herd."

Blaine just looked confused, but Kurt looked like he sort of understood. At the very least, he could remember their unicorn talk back when she was still his campaign manager. "I admit that at first… I had a lot of doubts about you…" Then he lowered his voice to just barely more than a whisper. "And to be perfectly honest with you, I was initially more concerned about getting extra credit for my NYADA application, than any focus on anti-bullying." He shrugged. "That part only came later on."

Brittany didn't quite approve of this, but she didn't give voice to that thought. It wasn't the right time, and it wasn't necessary.

"And I think… you could be a decent president. I think that if you could remind me to embrace my own magic and own up to my unicron-ness." Now, Kurt sort of laughed and shrugged again. "I'm probably not phrasing that right, but you get the idea. You got me to remember that I had better chances of owning up to it and using it at the head of my campaign, than if I had done everything with that toned down, depressing poster I showed you those months ago."

"It really _was_ depressing." Brittany said, but with a joking tone and a smile. She nudged Santana. "You should've seen it, it was like looking at the picture of a dead president."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, it kind of did…"

Now, it was Kurt nudging Blaine. "_Anyway_… what I'm trying to say is… I'm impressed and I think you could be a great president who'll get other people to embrace their magic too. That's what you wanted me to do when you were still my campaign manager, and I figure that's what you want to do now that you're president."

"Yup. That's exactly what I'm planning to do. That and make this school a safer place for everyone." Brittany squeezed Santana's hand and grinned at her and received a grin in return. This was _something_. This was their glee friends trying to understand the magic and not trying to downplay it or ridicule it. This was more than they could have ever hoped for.

"Sounds good to me." Kurt said, then his smile fell. "And finally… I'd like to apologize for underestimating you. Both in your campaign, and in the choir room."

"I'm here to apologize about that, too." Blaine added.

Brittany gestured for them to come over, and just like the group hug with Tina and Mike, she got the four of them together and told them, "I can't stay mad at you guys. We unicorns and bicorns should stick together, right?"

* * *

><p>Shortly after the brief celebration and a discussion on preparations and plans for the weekend, Ms. Corcoran promised to come to tomorrow's full-day rehearsal at Quinn's house, and dismissed the group.<p>

Now, six of the Troubletones were gathered in the Fabray living room, which had been cleared out, the furniture pushed to the walls, so that there would be enough space to sing and dance.

This was a place that Quinn normally did everything in her power to avoid because of the memories still attached to it, the tension it gave her. But now, seeing it full of people she felt quite comfortable with, and laid out _very_ differently, Quinn could almost forget that this was the same room.

Now was the ideal opportunity to give it new memories, and Quinn threw all her energy into the rehearsal with Brittany, Santana Mercedes, Sugar and Amanda.

It was challenging at first. Since their partners weren't around yet, Quinn and Mercedes had to partner up for the move they'd jokingly started calling the Brittango. And as much as she loved Mercedes, it was harder than Quinn was willing to admit to dance with her. Sugar and Amanda also got off to a rocky start. Sugar didn't trust Amanda enough and kept firing out threats she'd follow through with if Amanda dropped her. Brittany also started to get irritable with them all for moving so slowly and out of sync. Santana threatened Quinn with violence every time her foot was accidentally stepped on.

By one in the morning, everyone was just exhausted. But at least they managed one run-through without yelling at each other. It wasn't perfect. Quinn nearly tripped and Amanda bumped into Mercedes. But they were moving a lot faster now, more in time with Mercedes and Santana's singing.

Quinn wouldn't exactly refer to these as… _happy_ memories.

But they were a lot better than the thoughts and memories normally attached to this room, for which she was grateful. At least these new memories, Quinn could look back at with fondness, and if they ever got to talking about it, there would probably be some laughs, too. Just like how New Directions sometimes looks back at rehearsals and jokes about mistakes and fights made during that stressful time.

"Do you think we might have a chance at winning?" Quinn asked Brittany, Santana and Mercedes, who were still awake. Amanda had crawled into her sleeping bag the moment rehearsal ended, while Sugar had flopped onto her mattress without another word.

Mercedes was the first to answer, "I think we've got a pretty good chance. I mean we're really making up for all the time we've lost and we're getting the hang of it fast."

"Besides, we could always use the Skanks and Lauren to intimidate the judges." Quinn was about to be appalled by Santana's suggestion until she realized that Santana was _smiling_. It was a joke.

Quinn really had to loosen up.

"I can imagine them doing some of those really cool gravity-defying stunts those wrestlers do." Brittany said, nudging Santanna and smiling with her.

Mercedes laughed at the image that conjured before saying, "I think that with or without that secret weapon, we could win."

If they won though… Quinn wasn't sure if she would be happy about the part she played in the Troubletones winning or if she should feel bad for New Directions's loss.

All too well, she could remember how bad they would all feel every time they lost, and she could imagine the looks on their faces upon hearing the results. It would definitely feel weird considering the fact that some of them used to be part of New Directions before joining the Troubletones.

And it would be a shame if Rachel would hardly get any opportunity to sing afterwards.

"Hey guys…" Quinn had an idea, and even though they were all friends, she wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to make such a suggestion when she'd only joined so recently. "If we win… what if… What if we offered to let ND join us if we win?"

"Both their guys and their girls?" Mercedes asked, seeming to consider the idea while Brittany and Santana's smiles faded at the same time.

Quinn hadn't quite thought of that." Well… both, I guess?" Though she wouldn't feel too pleased with the idea of being in the same group as Finn again, and she doubted Santana and Brittany would like it, Quinn had to acknowledge the fact that there were some good guys there, too. Sam, for one, seemed pretty concerned about Santana once he found out about her situation. Kurt and Blaine were okay, too. And Mike and Rory. Actually… almost all of the guys except for Finn.

"I could be down with that." Mercedes turned to Santana and Brittany, who had yet to say anything on the subject. "What about you guys?"

"I'm pretty sure Finn hates me too much to like the idea." Santana said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning closer to Brittany. "And Berry's gonna hog our spotlight again."

Brittany didn't say anything.

Quinn considered their points for a moment before saying, "What if we made a condition? Like Ms. Corcoran calls the shots and Mercedes is the team captain and what the two of them say is what goes?"

"I like the sound of that." Mercedes said. "As long as we don't let Rachel or Finn or Mr. Schue take over in any way, I think there's no harm in at least giving them the option to join."

"Well…" Santana's brow furrowed as she looked at the floor and avoided their eyes. "I dunno…"

Finally, Brittany spoke up. "I don't like the idea of Finn being near her."

"Maybe… maybe he won't even accept the offer." Santana said, looking slightly alarmed by the cold edge to Brittany's tone. Quinn couldn't blame her. She felt stunned and a little scared by it, too. "Maybe way too much shit's gone down between us for it to be fixed, and he won't want any part of this. And he'll just say no."

"Maybe…" Brittany sounded less intimidating now, but still doubtful and tense.

"So… we'll make the offer?" Quinn asked, "Just before the competition?"

"I guess." Santana said, still reluctant and uncomfortable. "As long as Berry understands that it's our turn to be the divas and her turn to be in the background."

Quinn nodded, "I'll talk to her about that." Hopefully Rachel would listen.

Brittany just nodded.

"I'll run it by Shelby in the morning then." Mercedes said.

From her spot at the other end of the room, Sugar grumbled something about wanting cookies before rolling over and remaining asleep. Which reminded Quinn that there was something they were supposed to talk about.

"Oh yeah," She started, wanting to get right onto the topic before she forgot again. "Sugar was supposed to talk to us about this, but…." Qunn spared a quick glance in Sugar's direction, still saw that she was asleep, and continued, "Since she's not available right now, I'll say it. It's about Susan."

If Brittany had seemed tense a while ago, she was even more wired up now. She went so far as to wrap her arms around Santana in a way that was unmistakably protective. "What about her?"

"Sugar overheard her talking about meeting up with Rick the Stick." Quinn said. "Sugar claimed that there was something odd and secretive about the way Susan brought it up, which Sugar thinks could be cause for concern."

At the mention of Rick's name, Santana's eyes widened for the briefest of moments before narrowing. "Meeting up? Like…. Hooking up? Or what?"

"She's lost her spot on the Cheerios, so she might be trying to get some popularity points by dating a jock." Mercedes gave her theory and ended with a self-conscious shrug. "But I dunno…"

"Any spell she's trying to work on with Rick to gain popularity won't work because Rick's suspended and Susan's lost her powers." Brittany said.

Quinn nodded, "That's what I was thinking. If she's trying to snag a guy for popularity's sake, there are far better choices. Rick may be the hockey captain, but I think his suspension's put him in a bad light."

"I'm not sure about that." Mercedes said, "It depends on who you overhear. Last week, there were some freshmen in the bathroom who were talking about how badass it is that he got suspended. And they even said it was such a turn on." Tensing her shoulders, Mercedes shuddered at the memory, "I hope I never have to hear what I heard ever again."

"That's gross." Santana's face showed her disgust.

Mercedes nodded in agreement and shuddered again. Then she looked at Quinn, "Still, we could be making a fuss about nothing. Sugar could just be being her usual drama queen self, making a big thing out of a small thing."

"True. Sugar likes to do that. But I think that we should still be careful around _Susan_." The emphasis Brittany put in Susan's name, lowering her tone and hardening her voice… it showed just how strongly she was disliked. Though Quinn couldn't blame her, she still felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar with the concept of Brittany being able to get angry and hold a grudge. "Remember when you two were at each others' throats about Cheerios stuff?"

Upon recalling this, Quinn shifted uneasily and looked down. That was one of her very low moments. She and Santana tended to have an on and off friendship when it came to the Cheerios, but some of the things Quinn did to rise up while pushing Santana down…

It wasn't something she felt proud of, or at all willing to look back at.

"Yeah… we were _really_ bad." Santana's reaction was different, almost amused. When Quinn looked up, she saw a smirk. "I totally kicked your ass in the hallway last year, Q."

Quinn rolled her eyes and was about to retort when Mercedes interrupted. "I think that maybe she _could_ be up to something. But right now, we _really_ don't have enough info to figure out what it is, and if The Stick is even part of it."

"Let's just stay as far away from her as possible." Brittany said, resting her chin against Santana's shoulder.. "And just cast protective spells and be careful."

"If we're lucky, she'll fall into the sewers and be stuck there for the rest of her life." Santana said.

Mercedes tilted her head slightly. "By the way... Brittany, did you _really_ spend last last summer in the sewers?"

"I hear that Sewer Gators live on the moon."

Only Santana smiled and it was when she started to laugh that Quinn and Mercedes awkwardly exchanged a glance and tried to laugh along.

* * *

><p>Conversation lightens up after that, then eventually, they decide to settle down. Brittany and Santana share a mattress to the side, while Quinn and Mercedes take sleeping bags side by side, a little further off.<p>

It was time.

"So what about Bleachhead?"

Brittany looked confused for a moment, then her eyebrows shot upwards. "Oh, that!" Her eyes darted towards the ceiling. Santana followed Brittany's gaze up to the ornate decorations. "Do you think Lord Tubbington can climb up to Quinn's chandelier?"

Santana returned her gaze to Brittany and raised an eyebrow, quietly letting her knew that avoiding the topic wasn't going to work.

With a sigh, Brittany let her eyes wander the living room for a moment, prolonging the wait, hesitating, bracing herself. Then finally, she said it. "I've been thinking about maybe giving her a second change."

_A second chance_? Santana felt her blood boil and automatically clenched her hands into fists, imagining how it would feel to swing them in the direction of Bennet's damn bleached head. "Why the hell should we?" Her voice had started to rise in volume, and Santana had to stop herself and take a deep breath to be able to regain control. Her next words came out as a whisper. "_No way in hell_."

What Brittany said next was unbelievably surprising. "I agree. I really don't want Bennet to taint any of our oxygen with her prescence, much less give her a second chance."

"Wh… then why the hell are we even considering this for?"

Brittany shrugged. "Bennet's having a hard time now. Susan's abandoned her. The people she thought were her friends hardly seem to give her the time of day anymore." There was something weirdly familiar about what Brittany was describing, but Santana was too caught up in how good it felt to hear that one of the people who made life so hellish was finally facing some consequences. "It's as if the universe is delivering the punishment she deserves."

Santana stopped short of saying '_that's a good thing, isn't it_?' The part of her that she didn't listen to very often unless she was with Brittany, the part that tried to be sympathetic and considerate… it reminded her of how bad things were immediately after the outing. How painful and humiliating experience after experience had been.

She couldn't help but know exactly how it felt to have so much stripped away in such a short time, and how it seemed like there was no one to turn to.

It's not an experience Santana would want happening to any of the good people she cared about.

Bennet wasn't any of those people. But still… Santana found herself sympathizing.

_Just a little_. "I'm not too crazy about the idea of giving her a second chance, Britt."

"Me neither." Brittany said, "But if we have her rejoin the Cheerios, or even TT if she wants, Bennet will have to put a lid on her unicornphobia. She's not going to be able to bash us openly anymore."

"Well yeah…"

"In a way… we'll be just a little bit safer."

Santana could see that Brittany felt just as uneasy and hesitant about this. It was a decision they both needed to consider thoroughly, and come to an agreement on together. Something they would have to support and comfort each other on.

"Good point, Britt…" Santana said, "But I'm not ready to jump on the idea just yet. Maybe… maybe we should give it some time. Maybe let's talk about this again after Sectionals."

"Yeah, let's focus on winning this, first."

* * *

><p>The next day, they rehearse exhaustively.<p>

With no Mr. Schue to take over or Rachel to compete with or Finn to complain or Mike to help, Brittany was in complete control of the dancing part. She kept a close eye on everyone, catching and correcting mistakes, even Santana's. Ms. Corcoran would occasionally give suggestions, but for the most part, she just watched them and seconded Brittany's comments after each run-through.

The command she had was kind of exhilarating. Brittany liked the way they actually looked up to her figuratively as much as literally, and they did make an effort to take her comments into consideration and improve at their next try. Even the Skanks and Lauren were listening to her!

Brittany tried to be as gentle and constructive as possible, and it seemed to be working wonders. They were actually a lot more successful today than they were yesterday. It could be because Ms. Corcoran's presence encouraged people to be more professional and focused. It could be that they were starting fresh in the morning instead of at the end of the day. It could be that they all wanted to give it their best shot since competition time was tomorrow.

Whatever it was, Brittany figured she should just be thankful that things were running so smoothly.

It really was surprising that the Skanks arrived on time and were being active. It wasn't surprising though that they tried to offer cigarettes and some other questionable items to Sugar and Amanda during the lunch break while Ms. Corcoran had her back turned. Brittany put a stop to the transaction just in time.

Besides that little incident though, Brittany felt great about how Saturday went.

And then Sunday came, and though she felt the usual pre-performance anxiety clawing at her from the inside, Brittany felt quite hopeful.

As the girls flitted about in the dressing room, Brittany kept memories of the successful rehearsal in her mind to keep herself calm. They've got this. They were an incredibly varied bunch of girls with different backgrounds and personalities and shapes and colors and motivations, but while they were in this room, they were one. They were the Troubletones, and they were going to be trouble for the other teams.

Brittany's confidence wavered when Amanda approached, looking increasingly agitated. But it could just be nervousness. Everyone got nervous before a performance. It was normal.

Then Amanda leaned in and whispered, "It's Susan. She keeps sending me these mean texts."

Brittany could feel the confidence begin to slip through her fingers. "Mean texts?"

Amanda nodded, "About how I'm going to regret ratting them all out, and I'm next. And then she'll go on about how she's going to deal with you and Santana first, and you're going down and…" Her voice fading into a whisper, Amanda shook her head, "And… just some really _really_ mean things about you two…"

There was worry and fear in Amanda's eyes, and though Brittany felt it herself, she made sure to smile and put as much warmth into her voice as she could. "She's just mad and looking for someone to vent to. Don't worry about it, Amanda."

Amanda halfheartedly nodded, but was clearly still anxious, afraid even.

"_It's going to be okay_." Brittany patted the younger girl's shoulder and tried not to think about the last time she said those words and had them thrown back in her face.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>I was supposed to include an extra small scene where Quinn and Mercedes talk, and Mercedes talks about the latest with her and Sam, and Quinn kind of regrets not treating him better, and tells Mercedes that they'll make a good coulpe. And Mercedes also says that Sam already apologized to Brittany.

Buuuut... the scene felt unnecessary-ish. And I got lazy. xD

On another note, if there's any particular small scene or interaction you really wanna see during the competition, feel free to make a suggestion, and I'll consider working it in if it looks like it'll fit. :)

And again, I apologize for how short this chapter is.


	22. Chapter 22

**Lean on Me**

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><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Whoo! It's finale time!

Oh my god this chapter was so hard to write. I literally spent several hours a day, every day, working on it, and almost forgot to sleep for several nights. I hope it's worth it to y'all as it was to me. xD

This chapter turned out a lot longer than I'd originally anticipated, and I _seriously_ considered chopping it into two, but then I thought what the hell, it's the finale, let it be long. Plus I think it'd be writing my own death sentence to leave such a huge cliffhanger halfway through.

I'm not gonna say anything else and spoil it, so just read on and then I'll have some stuff to say in the footnote.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>

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><p>Quinn glared at the stray strands of hair that kept falling out of place and irritating her eyes. She had just enough time to brush them back before Mercedes grabbed her by the hand and pulled her along. "C'mon, Quinn. We're visiting New Directions to make our offer."<p>

"I still think we're bein' too nice to 'em." The Mack grumbled from somewhere at the back of the group as they all left their choir-room-turned-dressing-room to go to the other team's.

"I doubt the guys'll like the offer." Lauren generalized. "Just like how it weirds them out that I'm on the wrestling team."

"Well I think we _are_ being really nice and that's a _good thing_." Amanda said from her spot next to Sugar, who folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes.

"They'd better be grateful."

The muttered mix of complaints and agreements died down as they entered the dressing room to find New Directions in various clusters, adjusting their appearances, going through vocal exercises or pouring through sheet music.

Sam's full grin at the sight of Mercedes was the first thing Quinn noticed. "Hi, you guys!" At the sound of Sam's greeting, all activity came to an abrupt stop and all heads turned to face the doorway, a wide variety of expressions on their faces. Quinn found herself automatically finding Rachel's and feeling relieved to see a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Will." Ms. Corcoran greeted with a cheery smile.

Mr. Schue recovered from the shock of seeing them there and approached, matching Ms. Corcoran's smile. "Looking good, ladies!"

Ms. Corcoran was about to start, when Puck's shout cut her off. "_Lauren?!" _He roughly shoved Finn out of the way and stood at the front of the group to get a better look. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"_Language_, Puck." Mr. Schue muttered, receiving barely a glance from Puck.

Lauren met Puck's shocked expression with a smug one. "Hello Puckerman. I joined the winning team."

"But you _hate_ show choir!"

"But I _love_ winning." Lauren countered, "And attention. And chocolate. And cake. And cupcakes. And cookies."

"But-"

Sensing the rising tension, Ms. Corcoran took a step forward and spoke up before either of them could carry on with the back and forth tirade. "Now we're making no assumptions of which is actually the _winning team_." She let her gaze sweep over everyone in the room before continuing, "And we sincerely came here to say, '_May the best glee club win'_. And we know it could go either way."

When Ms. Corcoran cast a meaningful glance at Quinn, she realized that she was being given the chance to pitch her idea herself. Quinn self-consciously brushed back her hair and took a step towards Ms. Corcoran's side, "And just in case we happen to be the winning glee club, I proposed a contingency plan."

At the confused look from Rachel and the suspicious glare from Finn, Quinn suddenly felt unsure of herself. They might see the offer as an insult. They might think it haughty of the Troubletones to suggest this. Quinn glanced at Ms. Corcoran and hoped she would be the one to continue.

Ms. Corcoran understood and finished for Quinn. "In the event of a New Directions loss, the Troubletones have agreed to allow any of you to join us. Even the guys."

"You're welcome." Sugar cut in with a proud bob of her head and shoulders.

Mr. Schue's smile fell and a hard edge came to his voice. "_Excuse me_?"

"What the hell?" Finn went around Puck to regain his spot at the front. "That's incredibly rude, Quinn."

Before Quinn could start hesitating and stumbling over herself and falling back into her pit of paranoia, she glanced at Rachel, only to find that narrowed eyes and a set jaw replaced the smile from earlier. A hasty apology started taking shape at the back of Quinn's throat and got ready to come out.

Santana took action before Quinn could get the words out. "Lay off Quinn, Frankenteen." She moved closer to Quinn, more in front of her than beside her, almost shielding her from Finn. "We're actually _being nice_. We're offering to work with you again just in case you suck too much to win anything tonight. Which you _probably_ will, if you're stupid and power-tripping enough to sing lead and make Blaine just sway behind you." Blaine and Finn exchanged a glance before Finn glared at Santana, anger clear in the tension of his shoulders.

Taking another step and effectively putting herself between Quinn and New Directions, Santana went on, "Considering the fact that constipated whales with missing fins dance better than you, this is a _huge_ sacrifice on our part."

"_Buuuurn_." Sugar's shoulder received another disapproving swat from Mercedes.

Finn's rising temper reached its peak. "Well if _we_ win," He swept his hand from one side to the other, gesturing at the entirety of the Troubletones. Santana had stiffened as if she expected Finn to strike at her. "_None of you are allowed to try crawling back into our glee club_."

Instead of pacifying Finn, Mr. Schue addressed the Troubletones. "Thank you for the offer, but we're going to concentrate on winning this."

Ms. Corcoran was tight-lipped with barely contained anger when she replied with a strained but still even, relatively calm voice. "Good luck everybody." Her face twitched slightly at a forced smile before she turned and led the Troubletones back to their own dressing room.

Quinn noticed the Skanks stuck their tongues out and made faces at the New Directions. Brittany on the other hand was glaring at Finn in a way that gave Quinn chills. It was frightening to consider just how intensely Brittany felt about the guy who outed Santana.

There really was more to Brittany than what Quinn had been assuming all these years.

"Now do y'all agree with me when I say we were bein' way too nice?" The Mack was the first to speak once they were in the privacy of their own dressing room.

Lauren's knuckles popped audibly as she clenched her fists, "We are _so_ gonna win this and rub it in their damn faces."

"That fucking whale hasn't changed a bit." Santana said, "He's too much of a fucking idiot to know that he's being a fucking idiot."

"I hate him." Though her more quiet voice contrasted with Santana's loud and ranting one, Brittany still left as much of an impact on Quinn.

Though Quinn felt her own resentment towards Finn because of his pride, his incompetence and his immaturity, it probably couldn't compare to the way Santana and Brittany felt about him. Purposely or not, he had a played a part in the landslide that Santana and Brittany's lives had recently experienced.

Raised voices of anger and outrage filled the room until Quinn couldn't hear her own thoughts. Earlier, they had differing opinions, but now, almost everyone felt the same way about the rudely rejected offer.

To restore order, Ms. Corcoran walked to the center of the room and lifted a palm, signaling for silence. Gradually, the noise died down.

"I understand that there's a lot of tension right now." Ms. Corcoran said, "And although I feel as insulted as the rest of you, I won't allow any of you to stoop to their level. When they go on stage, there will be no booing, there will be no yelling, and there will be no throwing of any projectiles whatsoever." She made it a point to make eye contact with the Skanks at this part. The Mack rolled her eyes while Sheila and Ronnie grumbled complaints with a reluctant nod each.

"Also, while I don't encourage any fighting or rivalry, I'd like you all to take note of this," Ms. Corcoran went on, "Mr. Schuester and… and Finn may represent New Directions," _and Rachel too_, Quinn mentally added. "But they don't embody New Directions."

"Fancy words. What the hell are you even getting at?" Ronnie asked.

Though she still seemed to be on the edge, as seen by her stiff movements and posture, Ms. Corcoran continued to speak with a calm voice that sounded almost soothing. A quick look around told Quinn that she wasn't the only one who felt this way. With the exception of the Skanks, most of the Troubletones looked less agitated already.

"What I'm trying to say… is that from the looks on their faces, there were some that seemed interested in our offer." Ms. Corcoran said, "What I'm trying to say is that just because… _some people_ loudly rejected our offer, it doesn't mean that every single person in New Directions felt the same way. Am I understood?"

Quinn and the rest of the Troubletones nodded their heads.

"Good." Ms. Corcoran smiled, and this time, it looked a lot more genuine. "I'm going to go out there and see how things are going in the auditorium. New Directions are due to perform in a few minutes, so don't take too long in here. We're still going to watch them."

Once Ms. Corcoran was gone, Brittany and Santana retreated to a mirror and adjusted each others' hair and make-up while Mercedes gave Sugar, Amanda and the two other newest girls some last minute tips and reminders.

Quinn went for her bag to check her phone for the time and estimate when the Troubletones were due to perform. After going through the contents for what felt like several minutes, with growing anxiety, Quinn saw no sign of it.

Mildly alarmed but reminding herself to stay calm, Quinn went to Mercedes. "Have you seen my phone?"

"If you stumble on a step, don't stop and smile at the audience like an idiot." Mercedes was saying, "It's gonna be too obvious and unless the judges think it's really funny, that's gonna take some points away from us. So just keep going and pretend it never happened, okay?" After the girls nodded their heads, Mercedes turned to Quinn, "Your phone?"

Quinn nodded. "My phone. I thought I had it in my bag, but…"

"I think you were using it just before we got to school," Mercedes said, then squinted, "But that might've been Amanda."

"I've been using my phone a lot since we got here." Amanda said.

Quinn narrowed her eyes and tried to remember if she had indeed used it since they got here, but her memory was a foggy haze, the recent encounter with New Directions standing out too much to make anything else before that clear enough to properly recall.

"You sure you brought it?" Sugar asked, "I forget stuff a lot and then I panic when I can't find them and then I find out it was at home the whole time."

Pausing for a moment to consider this, Quinn still came to no conclusion. "I'm not sure…" Maybe she did just leave it at home. Or maybe it would just turn up on its own later.

A knock at their door kept Quinn from dwelling on the issue. She was surprised to see _Rachel_ standing just outside their dressing room, shrinking under the glare of the Mack. "Who invited _you_ in here, midget?"

"What do you want, Berry?" Santana left Brittany's side to confront Rachel.

Rachel flinched at the aggressive tone, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I… I came to apologize on Finn's behalf."

Santana's eyes widened with surprise and she took a step back, uncertain.

"Did he drop his tongue somewhere?" With Santana silent and unsure, Brittany took over, easily towering over Rachel with superior height. "Because I don't see any other reason for him not to be able to make his own apology. Unless he accidentally opened a portal to Asgard and got struck down by Thor. Or he got turned into a mermaid and was lost at sea. Those are the only valid reasons I can think of right now."

Rachel seemed taken aback by Brittany's coldness, so different from the cheerful and optimistic warmth they were so used to. "I-I-I… Well I'll admit that he has yet to see sense… and I'm planning to put him through a long lecture soon. But… I-I-I really would like you to all to know that I'm ashamed of Mr. Schue and Finn's behavior earlier, and I for one appreciate the offer."

At this, Brittany softened, and she became noticeably less intimidating. Santana though still seemed tense and unsure. The Mack lost interest in the conversation and stalked away.

"Thanks, Rachel." Brittany said.

Rachel smiled at Brittany before addressing Quinn. "It was your idea, wasn't it?"

Quinn walked over to Rachel, "Yes, it was. And if you were offended by it, I'm-"

"_Quinn_." Rachel stopped Quinn from rambling further. "_I just said_ that I appreciated it. It's a good idea."

Did she just hear that right? "Really?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "_Yes_, really. Also…" she lowered her tone to a whisper, "Though I disagreed with Santana's methods… and probably always will… I understand that what she did, she did in your defense."

"Yeah… I'll probably have to thank her for that later or she's never going to let me live it down." Quinn made eye contact with Santana while saying this, knowing that she could hear them and was probably listening.

"And we're going to perform really soon, so I should get going, but I-I-I…" Rachel swallowed, smiled and abruptly hugged Quinn without warning, "Break a leg."

"I still think you two together would be really hot."

"_Brittany_!" Quinn pulled away from Rachel to glare at Brittany.

"Once I get past the weirdness of it all because this is _Rachel the Dwarf_ we're talkin' about… you're right, Britt."

"_Santana_!"

* * *

><p><em>I've been a victim of a selfish kind of love<em>

_It's time that I realize_

_There are some with no home, not a nickel to loan_

_Could it be really me, pretending that they're not alone?_

From her seat next to Brittany, Santana squirmed, uneasy and uncomfortable as conflicting thoughts bullied their way into her head. She turned to the right to try talking to Brittany about it, but instead found her having a whispered conversation with Amanda.

Santana could hardly make out the words, but the tones were easy enough to pick up. Amanda sounded panicked, her voice rushing out in hastily strung together words. Brittany was speaking more slowly, trying to soothe Amanda.

Deciding to leave them be for now, Santana turned to her left, where Mercedes was. Her eyes were glued to the stage, her head bobbed in tune with the song.

She was in the zone watching and listening to New Directions' performance. Now might not be the right time for Santana to harass Mercedes.

Santana was a Michael Jackson fan and would by default have some sort of reaction to this performance because New Directions had to perform it perfectly or risk being judged heavily. But that wasn't the prominent reason for her current uneasiness.

It was what Rachel said to Santana just before going off to perform.

"For what it's worth… There was a song we were supposed to perform for you right after… the-the… the outing. Due to some unforeseen circumstances and mounting tensions within our team, we were never able to go through with it." Just before Santana could impatiently tell Rachel to go straight to the point, she had went on to say, "I-I-I ended up making sure it was added to our set list. And… I-I-I know you'll probably resent watching Finn lead the song, but I-I… I personally hope that he'll feel it as he sings it… And you might call it childish and silly, but I do hope that this can somehow ease the tension between our teams."

Then Rachel had hurried off without giving Santana a chance to react.

And she was definitely reacting now.

There was still a lot of lingering negative feelings that Santana directed at New Directions in general after Quinn's idea was trampled to the ground so insensitively. But Santana tried to keep them at bay and remember what Ms. Corcoran had said because it was a valid point. Only Finn and Mr. Schue really reacted like it was the most insulting thing ever. In fact, some of New Directions seemed to like the sound of the idea. After thinking about it, Santana thought she recalled seeing Mike, Sam and Tina light up upon hearing the offer.

But still, seeing Finn monopolize the performance on stage right now made Santana's stomach twist into uncomfortably tight knots. Rachel was right about that part. But the part about easing the tension between their teams?

Santana wasn't so sure about that.

Could Finn really be hearing the song coming out of his own mouth? Did he actually have it in him to change? Make a difference? Make it right?

There was no way anyone could rewind life and reverse everything that's happened since the outing. What's done was done.

But Mrs. Pierce had brought up the idea of an apology. She was the one who suggested talking to Finn, and maybe making peace with each other, receiving an apology, maybe giving one as well… Mrs. Pierce said that might put some of Santana's inner demons to rest.

_I'm starting with the man in the mirror_

Could he?

_I'm asking him to change his ways._

Would he?

_And no message could have been any clearer…_

At that moment, their eyes locked on each other. From this distance, Finn's expression was unreadable, but his body language was clear enough. At first, he was moving in time with the steps Mike probably choreographed for him, tailor made to match his skill level. But it gradually slowed until Finn just stood still.

Blaine, Sam and Artie thought quickly, positioned themselves in front of Finn and took over. The rest of New Directions adjusted their steps until Finn was in the back, together with the band guys that really were just there to fill up space.

Another thought plaguing Santana's mind was the fact that she was here. Still here in school, still with clothes to wear, food to eat, a roof over her head, people who welcomed her into their home and willingly considered her as part of their family.

As bad as things have gotten… it could have been worse.

She'd read enough of those articles and stories with Karofsky last year to know that it could have been _so_ much worse. And there were also the ones she'd look into on her own, the ones that made her even more fearful and apprehensive about going public about what she felt for Brittany. The ones that told tragic stories. Of homeless youths… of brutal beatings… even death.

Though things could be ridiculously, painfully horrible, at least there were people Santana could count on and trust. At least there was a sanctuary where she could retreat to at the end of the day, loved and safe.

Santana found Brittany's hand and squeezed it, wishing that the small action would be enough to fill in for all the words Santana didn't know how to express.

"Mike's parents are here." Brittany whispered, nodding towards a spot that was several rows behind them.

"So are yours." Santana said, a little put off by how they were on completely different planes of thought right now.

Brittany seemed amused by how Santana didn't understand the impact of the Chang parents' presence. "It's a big deal because I've never seen them come to any of Mike's dance competitions before. _Ever_. His aunt was usually the one that brought him to the workshops and competitions and stuff."

"Ohh…" Santana didn't know what else to say.

"And I think I saw some of the Cheerios sitting at the back." Brittany said, "And the Warblers are here for sure. They didn't even bother changing out of their uniforms. It's like glued to their skin or something."

"Have you two been staring at the audience this whole time?"

Brittany and Amanda exchanged glances before Brittany answered. "Sort of…"

"What's going on?" Santana knew Brittany well enough to know that something was up and it was something that she hadn't told Santana about yet.

"It… Lord Tubbington… he…" Brittany considered coming up with another one before giving up and going straight to the truth. "We're just making sure Susan and her minions aren't here."

"Or Rick the Stick." Amanda added.

Santana frowned, "You think they're gonna try something tonight?"

"We're… not really sure?" Brittany said, "But it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah…" Now, Santana was back to worrying about what Quinn said the other night. About Susan meeting up with Rick the Stick and acting suspicious about it.

Could they _really_ be planning something sinister?

There was no time to dwell on the thought for very long. New Directions finished performing and the Troubletones were standing up and heading backstage together. Brittany briefly squeezed Santana's hands before leaving her side to talk to the other members.

A fresh wave of worries crashed over Santana. Now wasn't the time to fret over Susan and whatever the hell went on in that kid's head. Now was the time to think about the huge crowd out there waiting for them to present themselves for judgment.

Could she and Mercedes really do this? It would only be the second time that Santana would sing lead. The first time was successful and they won. But that wasn't at a time when Santana was out of the closet. That wasn't a time when _everyone_ knew about her sexuality. That wasn't a time when her own parents had recently thrown her out.

"Mercedes, I… can we… do you think…"

At Mercedes's laughter, Santana ceased her unsuccessful search for the right words. "Santana Lopez, are you _actually_ getting nervous?"

"No!" Santana answered automatically, defensively. Then followed it up with, "…maybe?"

Mercedes smiled and hugged Santana. "I am too. But we got this." Getting over the initial shock of the hug, Santana returned it. "Girl power. A'ight?"

Though this didn't erase all of the worries, Santana was able to smile and feel thankful that she had Mercedes at her side. That she was actually _friends_ with Mercedes now. Close enough to be able to hug each other and open up to each other. Close enough that Mercedes knew how to calm Santana without making things awkward, and how to gently warn her that she was out of line without being patronizing or rude.

They would sing this song together and wow the judges and the audience together.

Just after the hug, Santana spotted Sugar sitting on the floor, legs crossed, the index finger and thumb of each hand meeting and forming a circle. "Is Sugar…?"

"Meditating? Yeah." Mercedes answered, "Been doing that since we got here."

"Right…"

* * *

><p>With this year's Sectionals taking place at McKinley, it would be easy enough for Susan and her minions to try and do something sinister. That was the fear Amanda kept expressing to Brittany throughout New Directions' performance. In an attempt to relax the panicking girl, Brittany scanned the audience as thoroughly as she could and saw no sign of anyone who might be there to cause trouble.<p>

It was enough to calm Amanda for a while.

Until they went backstage and another fear took over. The natural one that always came before a big performance.

Brittany couldn't blame Amanda for being so anxious, but it still was making things frustratingly inconvenient. The anxiety was rubbing off on Brittany and it was getting harder and harder to stay calm.

To keep the paranoia from making her behave worse than Lord Tubbington at bath time, Brittany put all of her focus into the choreography. She began going from Troubletone to Troubletone, reminding everyone of their movements, giving extra tips to those she knew had difficulty with certain steps.

"Sugar, you have to trust Amanda, okay?" Brittany said, "She's on your side, she's your teammate, she's not going to drop you." Barely staying to see Sugar nod, Brittany moved on to Ronnie and Sheila, "Don't forget, that part where we do this," Brittany demonstrated the move, "Concentrate on moving your hips, not your shoulders."

"Got it."

"For like the thousandth time."

Still brimming with anxiety, Brittany walked past them and addressed the next two Troubletones. "Mack and Quinn, you guys usually let go of each other late at the Brittango part, so just-"

"Make out with her so that it looks like we let go of each other late on purpose."

"_What?!"_ Brittany wasn't sure if she'd heard that correctly. The wide-eyed expression of shock on Quinn's face made it seem like Brittany _did_ hear what she thought she heard.

The Mack grinned and nudged Quinn, "Jeez, I was kidding. Lighten up, both of you."

Brittany spared enough time to briefly pause and imagine the Mack and Quinn together. "That'd be hot though."

Quinn was frowning like Brittany had said something weirder than a Lord Tubbington story. "You said the same thing about me and Rachel."

This was taking up too much time. There were still a lot of girls Brittany still had to talk to and give tips to. "Both'd be hot." She shrugged at Quinn before hurrying over to the next girl. "Lauren, remember what I told you, okay? You-"

Brittany stopped, took in the fact that Lauren was doing push-ups, then went on, "Listen to the music, _feel_ the beat and-"

"Quit nagging like an old lady-" Lauren grunted in between push-ups. "and lemme concentrate on getting into the zone."

Leaving Lauren to continue with her pre-performance warm-ups, Brittany moved on to the next Troubletone. "And Santana, when you're singing, just remember to keep your hands still when you don't know what to do with them because sometimes –I personally find it cute, but I'm not sure the judges will feel the same way, but anyway- sometimes, you do this thing where-"

"Britt, _breathe_." Santana took hold of Brittany's forearms, keeping her in place and keeping her from going off to deliver the next batch of tips and advice. "No one's gonna forget the steps, okay?"

Next to Santana, Mercedes spoke up, "Yeah, you made sure of that during our crazy intense rehearsal yesterday."

"Wait, what thing do I do with my hands?"

Brittany was about to answer Santana's question, but got distracted by the entrance of Artie, with his chair being pushed by Sam. "Spies…?"

The guys stopped in front of the three of them, and while Sam bent over to whisper something to Mercedes, Artie addressed Brittany. "Yo, I'm no good with apologies and stuff," He looked uneasy, but continued on with what he had come to say, "And I'm still not sure what to make of everything…"

Artie glanced at Santana, seemed to consider saying something, then went back to speaking to Brittany instead, "But I am sorry about the part I played in that time you lost your cool in the choir room that day."

The apology was so awkwardly timed, right at the peak of Brittany's nervousness, just before they were due to perform. But still, Brittany appreciated the effort Artie had made. "Thanks, Artie. And I'm not mad anymore."_ Now, I'm just scared of seeing Lord Voldemort in the middle of the audience and finding out he doesn't like any of the moves I came up with._

The Troubletones' name was called, and all noise suddenly died down.

"Get out there and knock the judges off their feet. You don't need no magic comb for that!"

There was just enough time to smile at this before Brittany had to hurry to her spot.

Then the music started and the curtains opened.

"_At first I was afraid_," Santana's voice was the first the audience would hear of the Troubletones. "_I was petrified. Kept thinkin' I could never live without you by my side_."

Though Brittany's body was focused on the movements and performing the steps to the best of her ability, Brittany's eyes and attention were on Santana. On how she managed to shine as a star in her own right, but also continue to be radiant with Mercedes.

For all her talk about wanting to be the sole star and it being her time to be the diva of the club, Santana was just as comfortable with singing and performing and sharing with Mercedes. Santana respected Mercedes as their captain and accepted her judgments and decisions. In turn, Mercedes was always fair with Santana, always open-minded and gentle without giving up the necessity of honesty.

"_Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye,"_ They were nearing the potentially controversial part, and Brittany couldn't help but give the audience one more quick scan for any hateful face. It was hard to make out any distinct features, but Brittany caught sight of the row of seats occupied by cheerios, all of whom were bobbing and swaying in their seats like they were enjoying the performance.

_"You think I'd crumble,"_

Brittany tore her eyes away from the Cheerios and returned her focus to Santana.

_"You think I'd lay down and die,"_

Their right hands met, while Brittany brought her left arm around Santana's waist and sang her part. "_I'm a survivor! I'm not gonn' give up_!"

As empowering as it felt to sing these words, Brittany was sure that they applied more to Santana than anyone else. After being forcibly shoved out of the closet and driven out of the home and the life that she'd fought so hard to keep intact, Santana could have easily succumbed to depression and just hidden herself away. She could have just locked herself in Brittany's room and never come out. She could have stayed under the blankets and let the pain of her eye and her knee and her heart and her body envelope her.

Instead, she clawed her way out of the thorn-filled chasm she'd been thrown into and just kept climbing no matter how many times she was pricked, no matter how many times branches snapped underfoot, no matter how many rocks came loose and threatened to fall back down and bring her with it.

Despite blow after blow, fresh injury after fresh injury, Santana found the strength to be here.

Right here, right now, dancing with the girl she loved in front of a crowd that might just be hating her. As they broke away to continue on to the next part of the performance, Brittany watched Santana show everyone just how amazing her voice is and how unstoppable her spirit is.

Brittany had never felt prouder of Santana than at this moment.

* * *

><p><em>I will surviiiiiive!<em>

By the finale, Quinn was breathless and panting. She turned her head to make eye contact with Mercedes while cheers and applause filled their ears. The expression on Mercedes's face was somewhere between exhilarated and in awe. With each gasp of breath, she seemed to struggle with wrapping her head around the fact that the audience loved the performance.

Even though Rachel would always dominate their performances because she had a powerful voice, Mercedes deserved just as much attention and applause. Which was why it was great to see Mercedes finally get a chance, and Quinn was happy for her.

There was no resentment troubling Quinn right now. In this moment, she just felt… _happy_.

There was no worry, no fear, no paranoia, no distressing images of a hopeless future. Just… the roar of the crowd, the glow of the blue lights, the smiles of her friends.

Pride in her friends.

As the lights dimmed, they stood up and walked backstage, where Mercedes had them gather into a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

"I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks," Mercedes said, "I _know_ we did an awesome job."

"Fuck the judges, we're winners!" Santana was smiling like she'd never been happier, swaying side to side with Brittany and Sugar on either side of her.

"We sang and danced like chocolate chip cookies and milk when they fly to the clouds!"

Sugar nodded her head to what Brittany said, almost at the same time as Santana. Then she gave her own contribution. "If we don't win, I'm gonna ask my daddy to-"

"Sugar, _no_." Mercedes stopped Sugar from finishing that sentence, though every Troubletone knew what she was about to say and laughed it off. The Mack even reached over Amanda's head to ruffle Sugar's hair.

"That's our girl!"

They broke away from the circle to wait in the choir room while the judges deliberated. There, Ms. Corcoran spoke to them.

"This won't take long, so pay attention." She started out serious, as if something grave was going to come out of her mouth, but once the room was quiet, Ms. Corcoran smiled widely. "_I'm proud of you girls!_ I know things haven't been easy for a lot of you in the past couple of weeks, and it's affected the amount of time we had to rehearse and plan for this."

"Hell yeah." The Mack pumped her fist into the air and received a mixture of smiles and rolled eyes.

Mrs. Corcoran nodded, slightly amused, and went on, "But still, you managed to all take initiative in the end. We filled up the twelve-member quota, and each and every one of you proved yourselves to be equally dedicated and hard-working." Quinn wouldn't quite call the Skanks as dedicated and hard-working as Mercedes or Brittany or Santana, but they did put in some effort. And Quinn had a feeling that Mack, Ronnie and Sheila probably enjoyed themselves more than they would ever be willing to admit.

It was probably better too that they spent the past couple of days rehearsing and preparing instead of picking fights or shoplifting. It seemed like the Troubletones had become an unexpectedly great outlet for them.

"You all did your best, came up with an amazing performance on such short notice," Ms. Corcoran said, "And I see each and every one of you as a winner."

The Mack whooped and clapped, and soon enough, everyone was cheering and clapping too. Quinn was grabbed by Brittany and pulled into a group hug with Santana and Mercedes. "The Unholy Trinity are forever awesome!"

"Britt, we're four." Mercedes pointed out.

Brittany paused to consider it, then said, "We're the Fabulous Four then."

"I think we should make a list of potential names." Quinn suggested.

"Hot Bitches." Santana said almost immediately.

Before any of them could comment, Sugar squeezed her way in. "Group hugs cannot commence unless I'm a participant!"

"Sugar, you gotta pay your way in."

"_Santana_!" Mercedes looked as shocked as she was amused.

There was more chatter and banter that followed before they were finally called back onto the stage, positioned to the left, with New Directions on the other side and The Unitards in the middle.

One of the judges stepped forward and gave an introduction that Quinn could hardly pay attention to. The ease and calm and positive energy that filled her after the performance was suddenly replaced by tension that made it feel like every muscle and every nerve was wound tight, coiled and ready to spring at any moment.

A hand was clutching hers, and Quinn couldn't even be sure if it was her who was squeezing in a death grip, or the other person. A brief glance to her side told her that it was Mercedes, whose other hand was clutching Sugar's. A step below, Amanda was chewing on her fingernails while Santana and Brittany held onto each others' hands like their lives depended on it.

At the other side of the stage, New Directions looked just as nervous. Tina was shifting her weight from foot to foot, Artie's hands were in constant movement, Rory looked ready to faint and Kurt looked paler than ever before.

"Third place…"

Quinn bit her lip.

"The Unitards!"

There was a blur of red movement as the Unitards hurried over to accept their trophy. Quinn just barely remembered how to move her hands and politely clap together with the rest of the Troubletones and New Directions.

The lead singer didn't look even slightly bothered by the loss, practically skipping past Kurt with the trophy in her hand.

If she could be that thrilled despite placing last, then Quinn should be happy with whatever the results were going to be.

Though Quinn didn't even know what she would have preferred.

Most of her preferred to have the Troubletones win. Mercedes, Santana and Brittany deserved this after being in Rachel and Finn's shadows for so long. Plus they were pretty much the joint leaders of the Troubletones, and they'd worked so hard to get to where they were now. They _really_ deserved to win.

But there was the debt of gratitude Quinn still felt for Rachel. The baffling girl who managed to always act selfless and concerned every time Quinn was at her breaking point. People may say and think what they will about Rachel, but the truth was that she had a good heart. Though she didn't always make the right decisions, she _was_ capable of putting her pride aside and doing something that was to the benefit of someone other than herself.

If it wasn't for Rachel… Quinn would probably still be smoking under the bleachers. Or maybe even getting into the more questionable things the Skanks did. Or worse, in an accident, caught driving carelessly after spending all night drowning herself in alcohol.

Thinking even further back… Quinn realized that if Rachel hadn't been so pushy about Quinn staying in glee club during her pregnancy, then she wouldn't have made some of the tight friendships she had now. Mercedes's hand would never be clutching Quinn's this tightly.

It would feel… strange to win while Rachel lost.

But it wasn't exactly just Rachel who helped Quinn through hard times.

Mercedes gave Quinn _a home_ when there was nowhere else to go. There was no obligation like there was with Puck and Finn. It simply was that Mercedes cared enough to offer help without looking for anything in return.

"And in second place…"

Quinn tightened her grip on Mercedes.

"Iiiiis… one of these two glee clubs."

The guy was just prolonging the suspense. Pain filling her bottom lip warned Quinn that if she bit any harder, she might start drawing blood. She opened her mouth and sucked in a breath, wishing the results would finally be revealed.

Everyone else was just as sick with the anticipation.

The tension in the air could almost be tasted.

"_The New Directions_!" The judge finally announced after a suspenseful pause that felt like several lifetimes. "_And in first place the Troubletones_!"

Like a tidal wave, the Troubletones rushed towards their trophy as one. Ms. Corcoran, Mercedes, Brittany and Santana each grasped one side and lifted it up for everyone to see while the rest of the girls leaped up and down, shrieking with joy.

Then Quinn found herself slowing to a stop and looking across the stage to New Directions. Their shoulders slumped, their heads bowed, their bodies stiff and unmoving.

Two conflicting emotions began to wrestle for control over Quinn. The ecstasy of winning, and the agony of seeing her friends so downcast. The sadness on their faces flooded Quinn with guilt, turning the victory sour and making it hard to swallow.

The first to begin moving was Rachel, and by the time she was halfway across, the rest of New Directions started coming back to life. Sam was the first to start clapping and jumping up and down, cheering Mercedes' name. Rory was next, yelling out congratulations. Mike suddenly bolted forward and grabbed Santana and Brittany in a hug that lifted them off their feet. Rachel picked up her pace until she was in front of Quinn.

"I-I…" Rachel stumbled over what to say before giving up and pulling Quinn into another unexpected hug. "Congratulations." At least they were generally taking the loss with good grace, and that helped ease Quinn's guilt to a certain extent.

"You're welcome to join us, you know." Whatever Finn or Mr. Schue thought, there was nothing wrong with inviting New Directions members to join the Troubletones.

When she pulled away, Rachel just smiled at Quinn's suggestion without saying anything, then turned to Finn, who stood at the edge of the crowd, excluded.

Though most of New Directions and the Troubletones were clumped together right now, the conflict from earlier this evening had yet to be completely forgotten. The Skanks seemed apprehensive and stood slightly apart, watching New Directions suspiciously, while Lauren and Puck kept exchanging glares. But the friendships strong enough to overcome such boundaries were shining through in the way Kurt, Tina, Sam and Mercedes did a little dance together, or the way Mike twirled in a circle with his arms around Brittany and Santana. And there were some other small interactions as well, like Artie and Rory congratulating Sugar, Blaine saying something to Amanda… and more Quinn might have missed.

But Finn though… he was furthest away. Separate from them all.

Rachel took his hand and pulled him in, leading him until he reluctantly came to a stop in front of Quinn and Mrs. Corcoran.

"Um… hi." Finn tried to smile at them, but couldn't maintain it and moved his gaze to the floor.

"_Finn_." Rachel's voice sounded like a warning.

"Look… I'm…" Finn took a deep breath and said, "I'm… I'm sorry about earlier, okay? I-" He stopped mid-sentence and stared at something behind Quinn.

She looked over her shoulder to see that Mike had put Brittany and Santana down, and Santana was watching.

It was an awkward, uncomfortable look that they exchanged, and Quinn wasn't sure what she was supposed to do or say until Finn spoke up. "Yeah. Just had to say that. Sorry about earlier." He nodded to them and left the stage before anyone could say anything else or stop him.

* * *

><p>What was it with Finn? And the way he'd look at her like she was a slice of roast beef to line the layers of his inflated stomach was just way too unnerving. Santana couldn't understand it. And then he'd put on his gassy baby guilty face.<p>

That look they exchanged in the middle of New Directions' performance, and during the TT-ND clump was just _weird_.

Santana didn't know how she felt about Finn right now. His reaction to Quinn's offer had fired up Santana's temper and got her angry at the time, but that anger had cooled by now, leaving just the confusing mush that's been around for the past couple of weeks.

She still hated how he played such a big part in the huge turn her life had just taken. She still hated how he struck her the lowest of blows and dragged it out in the middle of a crowded hallway. And how quickly things went from crowded hallway to everyone _everyone_.

But there remained the fact that Santana had been a horrible person towards Finn for the longest time, and that week had been one of her worst.

Santana didn't _like_ him, and probably never would. But there was a part of her that really seemed to need the kind of closure Mrs. Pierce had suggested. It was still a scary as hell idea to be so near to Finn and to force herself to lower her guard and be that vulnerable, but… the benefit of doing that sounded almost worth it.

_Almost_.

She still wasn't sure if she was ready.

"You're quiet. Whatcha thinking about? Are you thinking about the trophy? Who's keeping it? Did Mercedes bring it home? Or your teacher?" Santana was pulled back into the present by Emily's unending line of questions.

"I wus wunderin' aboot dat." Rory said, "Did Mizz Curcuran take it wid her or did ya keep it in yur choir room?"

"I…" Pushing the troubling and _weird_ thoughts of Finn aside, Santana answered, "It's in the choir room. I'd show you, Emily, but I'm pretty sure the school's gonna be locked closed soon."

"You guys were really good, y'know!" Emily said, then poked Rory's arm, "But you guys were good, too! I loved watching all of you!"

Santana smiled, "Thanks, Em. Glad we entertained you."

Meanwhile, Brittany was giving her parents detailed behind-the-scenes stories of how they came up with the song choice, the choreography, the outfits, all of it. Everyone else was in different areas in the parking lot, getting ready to go home, or already gone.

"It really _was_ entertaining!" Emily exclaimed, flailing her hands. "I loooved it!"

Vibrations coming from her bag told Santana to check her phone, where she found a text from Quinn, asking her to meet in the choir room. Santana frowned, and sent a reply asking why.

"Whut's wrong?"

"Quinn's being weird." Santana answered Rory's question, just as a reply came in almost instantly.

_I forgot my ipod in there. The lights are off in most of the hallways and it's kinda creepy. Come with me please?_

Santana rolled her eyes as she sent her reply, "_Q, you're being such a freaking baby. I'm coming_." Before leaving, Santana tapped a distracted Brittany's shoulder and said, "Britt, I'm just gonna accompany Quinn to the choir room. I'll be back soon."

When Brittany nodded without really looking or pausing in her in-depth narration, Santana gave the same message to Rory before making her way through the crowd and heading back to school.

* * *

><p>"We should definitely celebrate." The idea came to Quinn just after Finn's awkward exit and apology. When they were all still cheering even after the trophy had been locked in the display case in the choir room. When the euphoria was still there as people began to exit the building and head to their parents andor cars.

With Mercedes about to go home, Quinn felt like she had to pitch the idea while she had the chance. "Like my house is big enough," The more she talked about it, the more exciting and temping it got. "And it'll be fun, and we haven't had a party in ages."

Maybe she could invite Rachel and the other New Directions people that didn't give too much of a damn about the TT-ND rivalry. And they could karaoke and maybe Blaine and Rachel could have another drunk duet. The memory of how wild Blaine's hair had gotten that night, so different from the gel helmet he wore now had Quinn grinning and even more excited by the idea. "We should really do this, Mercedes!"

Mercedes glanced at her parents, who were already waiting in the car. "I could be down with that." The response was delivered with a smile and some interest, but Mercedes seemed kind of distracted. She then turned to the opposite direction, where Rory and the Pierces were talking outside their car. "Go and tell Brittany if you're so excited about it. I'mma get going soon."

Still ridiculously tempted by the idea of getting together and celebrating, Quinn nodded, "Alright, I will!"

* * *

><p>As annoying as it was for Quinn to whine about wanting someone to come with her, Santana found herself also feeling a little uneasy as she paced around the area inside school, near the entrance. There was barely anyone around, and almost everyone was already outside or on their way home.<p>

And where the hell was Quinn?

After waiting for another five minutes for a reply that never came, Santana decided to call while going on ahead to the choir room. Maybe she could just go in there, grab the ipod and leave. It was probably on the dresser Quinn and Mercedes shared.

The busy tone only fueled Santana's tension and irritation. "Dammit, Q. You seriously owe me for this." She was wasting time and the Pierces were probably already waiting for her, but she was already halfway to the choir room. Might as well see this through, even if Quinn was missing again.

The closer she got to the choir room, Santana kept herself calm by thinking of all the insults she'd fire at Quinn the moment they saw each other. Tubbers. Finn II. Psycho.

Well they weren't as creative as they usually were. Santana figured that she'd be struck by better ideas later on, once she was actually face to face with Quinn. For sure, Santana would have a long paragraph to deliver for this stupid trip. Quinn should have done this herself and just dragged Mercedes along instead or something.

By the time she got to the choir room, Santana stopped abruptly.

The room wasn't empty.

* * *

><p>"You did an impressive job with the choreography!" Dad patted Brittany's shoulder and beamed.<p>

Mom, too, was grinning wider than ever. "I'm so proud of you, Britty!"

Brittany smiled and was about to say that she didn't do it all on her own and had help from Santana and Quinn, when she noticed that Santana wasn't there. Instead, it was just Rory and Emily behind them, having an in-depth discussion about what kind of cookie was superior to all.

"Brittany!" Quinn approached with a smile and a spring in her step like someone just put a unicorn in her car. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Deciding to talk to Quinn now and ask Rory and Emily about Santana after, Brittany said, "Sure."

"Why don't we get together and celebrate this victory?" Quinn said, her voice high with excitement, "I'm thinking we could also invite some of New Directions if that's okay. Like we could play some music and you and Mike could have a dance off, Mercedes and Santana can have a sing off, Blaine and Rachel could perform another drunk duet, I mean can you imagine how much fun it would be?"

"I remember most of you complaining about the awful hangover after." Brittany liked the idea, sure enough, but it amused her how easily Quinn could forget about how horrible everyone felt the next day.

"Well… I'm probably not going to drink too much…" Quinn sounded a little less enthusiastic, and seemed to pause to reflect for a moment, "Yeah… definitely not going to drown myself in it again. But…" Changing her tone, Quinn now sounded almost nostalgic. "But I still think it'd be nice if we could all hang out sometime and just… just celebrate."

Brittany nodded. "Sounds nice."

"I mean there's been so much drama and fighting and tragedy and… a lot of other stuff lately…" Quinn said, "I feel like it's been so long since we last spent time together just for the sake of spending time together. I mean we're all graduating in a few months, and I doubt we're all going the same way, so I'd really like us all to be together as much as possible, all of us. And just… just…"

"I know." Brittany reached out and took Quinn's hands. "I know. And I think that's a great idea. And I think we-"

"Wusn't Santana supposed t'be wid ya?"

Quinn looked behind her, then at Rory, "Wait, are you talking to me?"

Rory's brow furrowed and his face reflected confusion and concern. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to ya. Santana said she'd be meetin' up wid ya."

"She did?" Quinn looked even more confused than anyone else.

Vaguely remembering Santana saying something while Brittany was in the middle of narrating how they decided on the outfits, she tightened her grip on Quinn's hands. "I remember she _did_ say something about meeting you."

"Got a text from ya, she did." Rory said, "Sayin' you'd be goin' to d'choir room or sumthin'."

"A text?" Quinn looked from Rory to Brittany like they were making no sense, then Quinn's eyes suddenly widened, "Oh! My phone's missing. I haven't texted anyone tonight."

Brittany's heart skipped a beat.

* * *

><p>They were everywhere.<p>

They were everywhere and she was outnumbered.

A broad-shouldered hockey jock blocked the way out while Rick the Stick and Susan positioned themselves nearest to Santana, and the looks on their faces were all too familiar. Santana had seen those looks before. So many times, that she had them memorized. Every night, she had to face those looks and experience the horror and pain that always came after.

Terror was coursing through Santana's veins, making it difficult to breathe normally and to stand straight. Still, Santana hardened her expression. She narrowed her eyes, furrowed her brow, set her jaw. She wasn't going to show any of them how afraid she was.

None of them would have the satisfaction of knowing just how much power they really had over her.

"Hey, where's Pierce?" Susan asked.

"Yeah, we thought you two were like a buy one take one deal." Rick said.

"Dammit, she should've gone with you!" Though Rick only seemed to be mildly disappointed by Brittany's absence, Susan sounded downright angry. Like it was such a grave insult.

Clenching her fists to keep her hands from trembling visibly, Santana moved her glare from one ringleader to the other. "Leave her out of this." There was _no way_ she was going to let them touch Brittany. Ever.

Susan's frown deepened, and she looked ready to snap, but Rick was the first to respond, with a casual shrug and a slight smile. "Eh, she's too stupid to be any trouble. It's _you_ we're more pissed at anyway."

"I'm pissed off at _both_ of them!"

"Well too bad!" Rick impatiently snapped at Susan. "Deal with it!"

"Fuck you!"

This… this felt too familiar. Santana hoped the situation wasn't going to get any worse. She had to get out of here immediately. "Yeah, well if you're done yapping and arguing, I gotta go." She tried to walk past them, but Susan stopped arguing with Rick and moved to stand in the way. Behind her, her girls tightened their formation.

"You're not going anywhere." Susan's tone sounded more threatening and intimidating than Santana was willing to admit. This girl was getting worse and _worse_. How could Santana have ever trusted this kid and gotten away with ordering her around?

"There're no teachers to protect you this time, Lopez." Rick said, taking a big step that brought him face to face with Santana. "No one to threaten us with suspension."

"No one to kick us off any team." Susan added. "No one can stop us this time. You're going to get what you _deserve_."

"You know, this makes you guys kinda lame since you all have your little girls and little boys to hide behind right now while I'm on my own." Santana swallowed her fear and kept her voice steady. Flashes of her nightmares kept running through her mind and blurring her vision. Her father could be just waiting in the shadows, at the edge of her vision, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "Are you all scared of facing me alone coz I'm going _all_ Lima Heights on your asses?"

"This ain't about hidin' behind no one." Rick fired his breath at Santana. "This is about getting even." He gestured towards half of the circle around Santana, the part made up of hockey jocks. "They had to get into a competition without me, and they fuckin' _lost_."

Rick jabbed a finger at Santana's shoulder, and she tensed at the contact, hating it, however brief it was. "It was _you_ I was caught gettin' into a fight with. It's coz of _you,_ I was suspended. It's coz of _you_, I wasn't in that competition."

Santana shrugged casually, "Not my fault your team sucks."

Rick roughly prodded at her shoulder again, and this time, Santana wasn't going to let the action slide by her. "You're gonna fuckin' pay for that, bitch."

Fighting back the shudder that passed through her, Santana swatted his hand away and shoved him backwards. "Get the hell away from me."

Rick stumbled but was able to right himself immediately, and he looked ticked off. "Not 'till we get even." As he said this, Santana saw him raise his fist, and just in time, she dodged the punch he was aiming to throw at her head.

Taking advantage of the brief time he was off balance, Santana lunged forward, barreling into him, hoping to knock him over.

He probably would have fallen over if one of his teammates hadn't been conveniently near enough to be bumped into. Knowing that there was no way she could knock both guys over, Santana retreated to gather enough space to deliver a punch of her own.

Then an unexpected blow came from her right. It caught her side and sent the air rushing out of her lungs.

In an effort to avoid another hit, Santana staggered to the left. Though Rick and Susan's faces still stood out clearly, the shapes and figures of the other hockey jocks were losing their distinguishing features and morphing until they all started to resemble her father's broad shoulders and towering form.

This couldn't be real.

This _had_ to be another nightmare.

In the moment it took Santana to try searching for some clue that would tell her she was dreaming, Rick had recovered and aimed a punch at Santana's head.

She just barely saw it coming and failed to dodge away. Rick's fist met her jaw and sent her stumbling back in her inconveniently heeled shoes.

But it _did_ help bring her focus back on to the task at hand. _Surviving this_. Nightmare or not, Santana had to fight back. She swung and aimed for his stomach, catching him by surprise.

A sound somewhere between gasp and growl left Rick's lips, and as Santana was about to hit again, he dived, throwing his weight at her and using it to tackle her to the ground.

* * *

><p>"What's going on?" The excitement at the prospect of a party was gone now, completely erased by the look of pure terror in Brittany's eyes and the worry in Rory's. "She said she got a text <em>from me<em>?"

For a moment, no one said anything. Rory and Brittany just stared at her like she was speaking a completely alien language they'd never heard before. It was unnerving, and Quinn found herself gradually fearing the worst.

Finally, Brittany overcame the shock, and though fear still shone through, there was something else now. She was in control, and… it seemed like she was keeping a certain anger at bay. "Quinn, get help. Get anyone. Get in touch with Shelby. Coach Sylvester. Ms. Pillsbury. Mr. Schue. _Anyone_. As many people as you can get. Just in case."

Before any of them could respond, Brittany bolted.

* * *

><p>The impact of her back with the ground sent shockwaves of pain rushing through Santana's spine and ribcage. Through the haze, she told herself that this was just another nightmare. She just had to endure a little more of this and eventually wake up on Brittany's bed. Then Santana would be safe again. And everything would be <em>okay<em>.

"That the best you can do, Lopez?" Rick taunted, raising his fist. "I mean I heard about the fights you've gotten into before and I thought you'd be way better than _this_. Like, seriously, you _suck_!"

She was dreaming.

Santana reached for his arm before he could punch her. She tightened her grip on his wrist, using both of her hands to push it away. The way he continued to force his way against her efforts seemed like he was just enjoying exerting power.

This was just another nightmare.

Santana hoped she could just wake up before her father arrived. Because that's usually when the real hell begins.

She just had to wake up.

_Brittany, wake me up soon, please._

While Santana was distracted with keeping Rick's right fist away, his left struck, catching her cheek and stunning her.

Why couldn't she just wake up?

_Britt, now would be a good time._

There was laughter ringing in her ears as the weight pinning her to the ground vanished. Rick was standing up. Did that mean Mr. Lopez was coming? Or maybe it was Josh Coleman who would come next. Or was it Susan's turn?

Santana wanted to fight back, but her body wasn't responding. It slowly deteriorated into a trembling mess that refused to get up.

_Just don't fucking let them see you cry._

"You guys, this is freakin' fun! Like I haven't felt this fuckin' alive since watching you losers screw up against Thurston."

_Don't be such a pathetic coward. _Santana told herself that she was going to stand up and face them and deal with them. Nightmare or not, she couldn't let them win. She just… couldn't.

Slowly, breathlessly, she rolled onto her stomach before pushing herself up onto all fours.

"Look, the bitch is gettin' up! You dudes want a turn?"

She had to get up before Mr. Lopez arrived. There was no way she was going to face him from the floor. It would only give him the power to tower over her even more, and put her at a closer range with his feet.

Santana gritted her teeth and was just starting to push herself up when a kick to her back sent her sprawling back to the ground.

The floor felt cool against the burning, throbbing skin on her cheek, and she wished Brittany would wake her up already. Though Mr. Lopez wasn't here yet, this nightmare felt particularly worse than all the others.

More… _painful_.

Gritting her teeth against the soreness of her body, Santana used her arms to prop her torso up. It hurt, but it was still bearable. She _had_ to bear it.

Tilting her head and looking up, Santana expected to see smirks, or twisted faces of hatred and disgust. But instead, she was surprised to find that wasn't the case. There were a few guys who had broken the circle, put distance between themselves and the rest of the group. They looked wide-eyed and uneasy.

Licking her lips, Santana tasted blood. Was this still part of a dream? She couldn't remember anymore if she ever bled. If it ever felt like this if she did. The throb of a spot at the back of her head, the pain at her sides and the soreness of her cheek felt new. Different. Real in a surreal way.

But the more baffling part were the faces around her.

A lot of the girls behind Susan looked uncomfortable. Scared even.

What the hell was going on?

"You up for more, bitch?" Rick said, moving a step forward and blocking Santana's view of the more frightened girls at the back of the group. "Y'know I was thinkin', why don't we bring your pretty blond bitch into this? Would she put up a better fight? I hear she's freaky strong."

That did it. Energy she didn't know she still had came crashing over Santana, sending her flying towards Rick and attacking him with everything she had. She clawed at his face and punched when she could, ignoring the blows he would try to give her to get her away. Rage at his suggestion, at the mere idea of seeing them treating Brittany anything like the way they treated Santana… it shielded her against whatever he threw at her. It drove her on.

The jocks, the cheerleaders, all of them… any of them… they could do what they wanted with Santana, but she was never going to let them anywhere near Brittany.

As Santana was reeling her arm back to strike Rick again, hands took hold of her wrist and roughly pulled her back. She twisted to punch the other jock with her free hand and landed a blow before another grabbed for her.

She struggled against the two jocks. Curses and insults flew out of her mouth before her brain could filter anything. Santana bared her teeth and was going to try biting herself free when a third jock grabbed her hair and forced her neck into craning backwards.

Still, Santana fought to free herself, managing to deliver a few kicks until one more guy came at her. A punch to the stomach drove the breath from her body while her arms were wrenched back. They were forced behind her, and clutched at the wrists and elbows, effectively restraining her.

Santana's neck and back were forced into an arc, exposing her torso and throat.

This HAD to be a dream.

She still felt furious with them, but that was beginning to trickle away as the familiarity of this position struck her. She was being restrained. She couldn't move. And she was at their mercy.

As her heart doubled in pace, fear began to completely replace fury.

"Susan… this doesn't feel right."

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice that she had never heard in any of the previous nightmares, Santana turned her head as much as she could to see the source. Some girl behind Susan.

"We should stop." That was another girl, farther back.

Susan turned on her followers. "Knock it off and show some backbone!"

"Stick, man, I don't like this." That one was a guy, somewhere to Santana's left.

"Shut the fuck up!" Rick yelled at them.

Santana couldn't understand why any of them were hesitating. They were all supposed to hate her. They were all supposed to want her off the Cheerios. They were all supposed to want her to be in constant pain and misery. They were all supposed to want _this_.

As she continued to gasp for each breath, with fear tightening her throat and weakening her legs, Santana tried to look around at what little was within her line of sight in this position. She tried to meet their eyes, and though most of them looked away, a few looked… scared? Uncertain? …_Guilty_?

Before Santana could dwell on it, Rick struck with another blow to her stomach.

* * *

><p>Something was wrong.<p>

Something was very _very_ wrong.

But…

Hopefully, this was just a misunderstanding somehow. Maybe Santana meant it was a text from someone else. Not Quinn. Maybe she misread the name. Maybe Rory didn't understand what she said because of the accent-language barrier issue.

Maybe Brittany was just panicking because of the state of mind that Susan's texts to Amanda had put them into. It could just be a big deal being made out of nothing.

Santana might just be in the choir room _safe and okay_.

But when she burst into the choir room, Brittany could hardly believe what she was seeing.

Things were definitely _not_ okay. Santana was definitely _not_ safe.

On the floor was a guy Brittany had knocked over upon forcing herself through the door. But that wasn't what gripped her attention. What did was the circle of hockey jocks and former Cheerios gathered around… around _Santana_.

She was crumpled over, most of her weight being supported by the jocks restraining her. Worst of all, Rick the Stick had his fist raised like he had just been about to hit a helpless target. About to hit _Santana_.

Breathing was suddenly difficult, but somehow, Brittany had the breath to release a scream of rage. She grabbed Rick by the collar of his shirt and yanked him over to her. Startled and surprised by her unexpected arrival, he didn't do anything while she lifted him right off his feet. "You… you… _horrible_… _bad_…"

There just weren't any words for this.

There just weren't.

Using all the strength she'd gained and developed under Coach Sylvester's rigorous training, Brittany threw Rick aside and away from Santana before turning to the rest of the vile beings in the room.

The three guys holding Santana were staring with wide eyes.

"_Let_." Brittany took a step forward. "_Her_." Clenched her fists. "_Go_."

Though she half expected them to try putting up a fight, instead, they complied, hurrying to release their captive and back away.

When Santana swayed unsteadily, Brittany rushed to her side. "Britt…" Santana's left hand clutched Brittany's skirt. "Nightmare…?"

"Just… hold on for a little while, okay?" Brittany made sure that Santana was as comfortable as she could possibly be given the circumstance, with her right arm around Brittany's shoulders and her weight supported mostly by Brittany. It was unsettling to see the state of Santana's face up close.

"Mhm." Santana grunted an incoherent response and tightened her grip.

"_As for you people_." Still burning with the barely contained rage, and ready to release it now that Santana was out of their reach, Brittany addressed the others in the room. "I wouldn't even call any of you _people_!"

"Hey, at least we're _normal_!" Susan retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

"_Normal_?!" Brittany's voice rose in pitch and in volume. To hell with qualms about violence. Right now, there was nothing Brittany wanted more than to see these people _hurt_ and _suffer_ for what they did to Santana. Were they absent when hearts were being distributed to the people of the world? "You think this is _normal_?!"

"Who're you to talk to us about normal?" Rick had gotten over his shock and was now getting to his feet. Brittany could see the scratches and bruises that Santana had no doubt been the cause of. It was pleasing to see that damage, but as far as Brittany was concerned, Rick deserved far worse. "You're the freakiest freak in this whole damn school!" He pointed at the guy Brittany knocked over to get into the room. "_You_, guard the door and don't fuckin' let them out."

"I might be a freak. I might be weird. I might be _creepy_." Brittany looked at Susan, then at the girls who she specifically remembered using the same adjective on her. "I might be the gayest freak you've ever met. _But at least I'm not some damn freaking sadistic monster!"_

"_I'm not a fucking monster_!" Susan retorted, then turned to the jocks, "And why the hell did you idiots let her go? Get them! Get them both!"

"Susan, this _really_ doesn't feel right…" That was one of the former Cheerios.

"Rick, man, I dunno about this anymore." One of the jocks.

"Dude, we could get into a fucking lot of trouble for this."

"How'd you even talk us into this?"

It was just as infuriating to see some of the guys and girls suddenly getting squeamish. "If those two talked you into this, then you're all even bigger idiots than I am!" Brittany had never felt this angry before and while she couldn't go around attacking them like a part of her really wanted to, she was going to at least attack them with her words. "I've never been talked into doing anything as _evil_ as _this_."

A small part inside Brittany's head told her that she should be worrying more about getting out of this room with herself and Santana in one piece and less about insulting the people before her.

But Brittany was just too infuriated right now to think logically. The sight of their faces disgusted her and made every muscle tense, and… she just so _badly_ wanted to see them _hurt_.

She jabbed a finger in the direction of Susan and Rick, "There are freaking twenty of you and one of her! Are you freaking proud of yourselves for this huge accomplishment? I-I… You're all horrible human beings! _Fuck_!_ Fuck you all_! _I hope you all go through every circle of hell in the inferno and suffer!_"

* * *

><p>At the look on Brittany's face just before she ran back into the school, Quinn felt the same sense of urgency come over her, and the commanding, in control leader resurfaced. It was possible that some misunderstanding had surfaced and there was no cause for concern.<p>

But still, it was better to be safe than sorry. And from the enemies Santana and Brittany had recently made, this was crucial.

"Go find the New Directions members that haven't gone home yet, tell them to head to the Troubletones room. Get someone to find Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury." Quinn ordered Rory before turning and running to Mercedes's car because Mercedes would want to be part of this and for sure, she had Ms. Corcoran's number.

Desperate to get their immediate attention, Quinn threw herself in front of the car and flinched as it screeched to a halt, mere inches from hitting her knees.

"Quinn, what the hell is your problem?" Mercedes got out of the car, a combination of exasperated and concerned.

"You have Shelby's number, right?"

"I- yeah. What-"

There was no time that should be wasted on lengthy, vague explanations. "Call her, text her, whatever. Just contact her and tell her that there MIGHT be trouble in the choir room." After hearing the panic in her voice, and seeing the growing concern on Mercedes's face, Quinn calmed her tone. "Look, nothing's for sure. Don't get her into a panic. Just… inform her that we might need her. Santana might be in trouble."

Barely waiting to see Mercedes's nod, Quinn spotted Rachel several cars away with her fathers and went for her next.

"Oh, hello, Quinn! I was just telling my-"

"Rachel, could you come with me, please?" Quinn awkwardly nodded to Rachel's fathers and added, "Santana might need a little help."

Utterly confused, Rachel nevertheless nodded and followed. Just as Quinn was about to start looking for anyone else they could reach, someone grabbed her by the shoulder and roughly turned her around.

* * *

><p>With her body on fire with pain, and with flashes of her nightmares still lingering in her mind, Santana was dazed. But of one thing she could be sure of, and that was the fact that this, what she was experiencing right now, this was <em>not<em> the usual nightmare.

And the pain felt incredibly _real_. She could barely breathe without feeling like her ribcage was on fire.

But what felt more real than anything else was Brittany's _rage_.

Santana had witnessed Brittany raise her voice before, and she'd seen Brittany on the few times when she'd lost her cool. But _this_? This was a whole new level. This was _intense_. She couldn't remember ever seeing Brittany fuming to this extent before.

And the words sprouting from Brittany's mouth right now… swearing and screaming and yelling more than ever before.

Rick and Susan only got more worked up instead of intimidated like they should be.

"You fuckin' shut up, you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"You don't fucking know _anything_!"

"_You know even less_!" Brittany shot back.

Rick released a yell of frustration before gesturing towards his jocks, most of whom hovered uneasily, several paces away. The one he'd ordered to block the doorway was still at his post, but the more Santana looked, the more it seemed that the guy wished he could be anywhere else.

"Get them! Fuckin' grab them!" Rick ordered, and the hesitation of his teammates only fueled his temper.

Despite the pain, Santana found herself feeling a certain level of satisfaction at this.

Susan, too, was getting just as angry and frustrated. She turned to address her own. "If the guys are gonna be useless, you girls go and do something! Make them both pay for getting us kicked off the team!"

"But-"

"_Now_!"

One of the girls moved towards them, but the rest still hung back, cowering under Susan's glare.

Santana felt Brittany tense and slowly take a step back, away from the girl advancing on them. The girl noticed and stopped, threw a helpless look at Susan.

"Don't you come any closer." Brittany warned, her tone dangerously low and threatening. "You're going to damn well regret it if you do."

* * *

><p>"<em>Bennet<em>?" Quinn couldn't believe her eyes. Though she could believe her nose, which picked up the distinct smell of alcohol.

"Quinn, you gotta go and do something!" Bennet shook Quinn and spoke with urgency in her voice. "Susan was talking to me yesterday, and she told me she was gonna punish Brittany and Santana. She had a fucking plan and everything! You gotta do something!"

This confirmed what Quinn had suspected, and that didn't make this news any less unsettling.

She pried Bennet's fingers off and said, "We're already on it. But if you want to do something, go find Coach Sylvester. I'm pretty sure I saw her here somewhere."

"Wait, you knew about this _yesterday_?"

Bennet turned to face Rachel, "I-I… I didn't… it… Susan was bragging about getting stuff done while I was sst-stuck feeling sorry for myself. I didn't know what to do with the info, okay? It took me a while to decide to get over here and look for you people!"

Rachel looked appalled to hear this, and though Quinn felt the same way, she decided against dwelling on it. "Okay, fine. There's no time to fret about this. Bennet, go tell Coach Sylvester everything you know."

Bennet nodded, looked at Rachel uneasily, and left to disappear into the crowd.

"Let's go." With Rachel's help, as well as Rory and Mercedes', Quinn was able to gather most of the Troubletones and New Directions.

Together, they stormed into the choir room to find Brittany grappling with Rick the Stick and Susan, using her arms and body to keep them back while Santana was leaning against the wall behind Brittany. Scattered around the room were hockey jocks and former Cheerios, watching their leaders uneasily.

Santana could barely support herself, but she looked like she still wanted to help. "Britt… let me…"

"_No_." Brittany snapped, taking a step forward and forcing both Rick and Susan to step back. "They are _not_ hurting you again." Her arms trembled under the strain, but didn't waver. Not for the first time, Quinn was impressed by Brittany's strength.

But she didn't have to keep this up forever. "_Leave them alone_!" Quinn shouted to get their attention.

"What the fuck are all of you doing here?" Rick tensed at the sight of them and stepped away from Brittany. Quinn was surprised to see that he was bleeding from scratches along his face, neck and arms, and there seemed to be slight bruising, too.

Susan took advantage of Brittany's diverted attention and savagely drove a knee into her stomach, stunning her. "Is this some gay patrol or gay army? Who invited you freaks in here?"

Quinn was about to move to help Brittany when her eyes fell on Santana and really took in her appearance. Suddenly, Quinn felt her knees tremble. It was almost as bad as seeing Santana on the Saturday after the outing all over again. There were bruises around her wrists and across her face. Splotches of unnatural colors that looked serious and painful. From where Quinn was standing, she thought she could see a small cut across Santana's cheekbone, surrounded by the beginnings of swelling and more bruising. Her lip was bleeding, too.

"You're not putting Brittany and Santana through anymore misery." Mercedes was the first to take action, walking towards the center of the conflict and shoving Susan away before standing in front of Santana and Brittany.

* * *

><p>Though Brittany knew that Quinn was going to get help, seeing so many people rallying at the doorway was surprising. Anger still burned through her, but there was something positive now as well.<p>

But now wasn't the time to fuss over what emotions were running through her. The blow from Susan had left Brittany out of breath, but it must be nothing compared to what Santana had gone through. Ignoring the soreness of her stomach, Brittany turned to face Santana, who was still leaning against the wall.

She looked weak, dazed and in pain, but watched the scene in awe. Brittany reclaimed her position at Santana's side, supporting her.

Together, they watched as Rick appeared to be intimidated by the size of the group, backing away slowly, though he tried to hide it by nudging one of his teammates. "What can these freaks do? They can't make us stop doin' whatever the fuck we want. They're all just losers, right?"

The jock flashed an uneasy smile and followed it up with a false chuckle. "Right. Fuckin' losers."

Susan's face was twisted into a grimace of hatred, disgust and rage. "_This isn't over_." She moved forward, pointing towards Brittany and causing her to tense and protectively tighten her grip on Santana.

Before anything else could happen, Quinn took a stand next to Mercedes and blocked Susan's path. "Don't you take one more step. This _is_ over. We're not going to let you get away with this."

"You're all fucking assholes, y'know that?" Puck was the next to advance, "I'm gonna punch the shit out of the next person who touches a hair on either of their heads."

Brittany was surprised to see such the sudden action from Puck, and it was almost scary to hear the growl in his voice. But she was touched by how protective and threatening he sounded. By the fact that he, as well as Quinn and Mercedes, were willingly using themselves as shields to keep Brittany and Santana safe.

"I will, too." Sam came next, and Brittany found herself smiling, happy to have his support. She still felt angry, and she still hated the hockey jocks and the former Cheerios for doing this, but she felt her heart soften at the way her friends were sticking up for her.

For sticking up for _Santana_.

Rory went next. "Dis is sumthin' only a real bad, messed up lass or lad would do."

The Mack popped her knuckles, "Susan, I think you still owe me an appointment." When Susan narrowed her eyes and took a step back, the Mack turned to the hockey jocks. "And the rest of you? Mess with those two an' you're gonna be sent home in a box of unidentifiable pieces."

"People like you are all the same." Blaine's said, "Bigoted. Shallow. Cowardly. Morally-depraved."

"Susan, I can't believe you'd go _this_ low." Amanda sounded horrified, shuddering upon glancing at Santana, tensing upon glaring at Susan. "I mean this… this is just _sick_ and _wrong_. And I'm ashamed to think that…" Swallowing and inhaling as if the words were hard to assume control over, Amanda had to pause for a moment before she could finish, "…that we used to be _friends_."

If she hadn't been focused on supporting Santana, Brittany would have patted Amanda's shoulder or hugged her right now. Here she was, confronting someone who'd been a friend, someone who she used to looked up to.

That day in the Troubletones choir room, Amanda could have easily joined Susan's group, could have spared herself from stress and simply stuck to everything Susan said. But instead, she chose the difficult path and walked over to stand by Brittany and Santana.

Amanda had even put herself at risk and specifically observed and made enemies out of people who would have been her friends.

Brittany was proud of Amanda and the choices she'd made to get to where she was right here, right now.

More and more of New Directions and the Troubletones placed themselves around Santana and Brittany, guarding them from the jocks and former Cheerios. It was chilling to hear the aggression and disgust in the voices of her friends, to see the tension in their clenched fists, to know that they were all willingly protecting Brittany and Santana.

Brittany knew for a fact that to a lot of people, Santana was someone to dislike, with her judgmental looks and biting comments, and Brittany was someone to simply laugh at and take lightly, with the unintelligible phrases that always left her mouth.

But right now, they were being viewed as _people_ and as _friends_.

Though she had begun reaching a point where she questioned the sincerity of her friends, Brittany right now felt like there was no question about it anymore. They _cared_ and they were here.

Whatever tension there was between the Troubletones and New Directions, they were a single unit right now. They were in this together.

Mercedes delivered the final blow by saying, "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. This is the last time that this is ever going to happen. You are _not_ going to get away with this."

"What're we supposed to do now?" One of the former Cheerios asked in a shaky, terrified voice. She cowered under the intimidating look that Susan shot at her.

"Rick, dude, what the fuck were you planning we do after roughing her up?" A jock grabbed Rick by the shoulders, desperation clear in his tone.

"Shut up!" Rick shoved his teammate away.

"You didn't think this part through, did you?"

_None of them_ thought _anything_ through. Brittany looked forward to hearing Figgins expel them, or maybe seeing police come in and take them away. That would definitely teach them to think things through a little more.

"Susan, I can't get suspended or expelled! My parents will kill me!"

"Shut it!"

"We took care of distracting security and shit, but did either of you even fucking think of this part?" The desperate jock wouldn't stop harassing Rick.

"Susan, why didn't-"

"It was a great fucking plan, okay?" Susan, too was being bombarded by questions from her followers, and her patience for it was running thin. "I'm gonna strangle anyone who fucking says otherwise!"

Arguments began to erupt amongst the hockey jocks and former Cheerios. Brittany took the time to check on Santana, who was panting and letting out the occasional whimper of pain. It was too soft for the others to hear, but it sounded excruciatingly loud to Brittany.

"Santana… how…" Brittany wished she had a way of knowing where Santana hurt the most and relieve her from it. Her eye was starting to swell again, painfully reminding Brittany of the night she saw Santana sitting in the park, alone and broken.

Santana bared her teeth, let out a hiss of pain and tightened her grip on Brittany's shoulder. "Look…" Shaky and unsteady, Santana used her free hand to point and redirect Brittany's attention to the scene before them.

The sight made Brittany tense.

Earlier, when everyone had moved forward, Finn had been one of the few that simply took their place in silence. But now, he had something to say, and this too, came as a surprise to Brittany. "I've texted Mr. Schue about this, and he's on his way here, and _he's calling Figgins_." It was shocking to know he'd taken the initiative to do something like that.

Brittany still hated him for everything he'd done to hurt Santana and every step he'd taken to push Santana into more misery and suffering. But this… this action was something.

A simple apology never would have done it for Brittany. No empty words would have fixed the problems he'd given Santana. But that action… that was a step towards trying to make it better. It wasn't going to fix or reverse whatever's already happened, but it was better than just _hoping_ for thinks to improve.

It was concrete action. Whatever negative feelings Brittany still harbored for Finn, she couldn't deny the mere fact that the concrete action spoke volumes.

"You just sit your asses on that corner over there coz Shelby's on her way, too." Mercedes pointed to a corner of the room. "And she's _furious_."

* * *

><p>Her face hurt like hell, a thousand times worse than what she'd been through at the hands of her father, a brutal pain that topped all the small scuffles she'd gotten into through the years. Topping off the pain enveloping her face, there was the soreness along her back, and the throb of her wrists. And then there was the ache of her chest that doubled with each breath.<p>

But upon hearing so many voices speaking out for herself and Brittany, with each person putting themselves in front of her, Santana gradually regained enough strength to stand on her own. She still needed Brittany's support, and her body still felt weak and on fire with pain.

But on the inside?

Santana felt… different.

This wasn't like one of her nightmares where each physical blow was accompanied by an emotional one, and she woke up with a crescendo of emotional turmoil.

Different.

"Hey, you guys…" The voice that came out of her own throat sounded coarse and raspy, soft and barely above a whisper, but still, they heard it and turned to her.

"H-how are you feeling?" Brittany continued to support Santana and led her to the nearest chair, gingerly guiding her onto it. "Did they break my unicorn's horn?" Though her voice sounded almost calm, Santana knew Brittany was a just a light nudge away from panicking.

In an attempt to calm Brittany, Santana tried to smile and breathe evenly. "My face hurts like fuck, but I think my horn's fine."

"Wanky." Sugar muttered from her spot behind Puck.

Quinn came over and knelt down in front of Santana, looking her over and inspecting her in a way that was a little unsettling. "Santana, do you think they broke any bones? Because if they did, you're going to have to-"

"Chill, Q." Santana tried not to wince too obviously at the pain that coursed through her cheek, jaw and ribs as she spoke. There was also the feeling of having sand in her mouth, and upon her tongue's inspection, Santana found a chipped tooth or two.

That would probably have to be looked into by Mercedes's dad or Ms. Pillsbury's ex. Santana reminded herself to focus on the present for now and said, "And get up, you kneeling like that is freaking me out."

"But seriously, broken bones? Trouble breathing?" Quinn kept firing her questions, but she stood up anyway.

Santana searched for Brittany's hand and held onto it with both of her own. "I don't think…" Something was up with her ribs, because her whole torso hurt, and felt worse when she breathed deeply. "I don't think anything's…" As if taken over by something else, her body winced and shuddered. "…_broken_."

Broken or not, she'd still rather not go to a hospital and risk running into her father. He probably wasn't there right now, but she still didn't want him to find out about this.

"Does it hurt more when you breathe?" Quinn asked.

"So what if it does?" Santana couldn't help but grow agitated by Quinn's questions. Wasn't there some way around this? Santana could already sense Quinn leading the subject towards hospital.

"I suspect you might have broken or bruised ribs."

"How can you even tell?" Though Quinn was only trying to help, and Santana understood that, she wished they could just drop the subject and let her sit down and wait for the aches to go away.

"I actually pay attention when these things are mentioned in class." Quinn glanced at Puck. "Plus _someone_ liked to give gruesome details back when I was stuck with him."

"Santana, you _need_ to go to the hospital." Brittany seemed to read Santana's mind and understand her hesitation, but concern over her physical well-being was Brittany's current priority. "_Please_?"

"But…" The pain wasn't _that_ bad. Santana told herself she could manage it. Until she found herself tightening her grip on Brittany's hand and wincing again.

"We'll do whatever we can to make sure your dad can't get to you if that's what you're worried about." Mercedes was quick to pick up on what was holding Santana back.

"My daddy has his _ways_."

Sugar's offer, so typical it should've been expected, managed to amuse Santana enough to laugh a little, though the pain cut the laugh short. "Okay, okay." As long as they stuck to their word. "_Fine_."

"Good." Quinn placed her hands on her skirt and seemed to be searching for something, then clenched her fists in frustration. "Could someone please make the call? My phone's still missing."

"I-It's with Susan…" The squeaky, frightened voice came from a girl who was huddled on the floor.

"Will you fucking shut up?" Susan slapped the back of the girl's head before the Skanks pulled her aside.

Susan tried to struggle and squirm away, but the Skanks outnumbered her and were a whole lot bigger and stronger. Santana felt a twinge of twisted satisfaction to see Susan being held still by Ronnie and Sheila while Mack searched for Quinn's phone and ignored the swears that Susan kept firing.

"Ms. Corcoran's taking a while, I'm gonna go find her." Amanda volunteered and dashed out of the room, followed by Rory saying he'd find Mr. Schue.

Santana would have preferred having them stay here. Right now, she just wanted to keep them all close. All these people… she'd been so convinced that most of them hated her and saw her as the insensitive, cowardly bitch. That they'd celebrated each time she was knocked down.

But instead… here they were, gathered around her with concern in their eyes and… something else. More than concern.

Something warming and comforting.

Something that made them want to defend her from her enemies and even try to keep her safe from her father. Something that made them absolutely nothing like the way they behaved in her nightmares. Something that made them fuss over her like the way they were now.

Like… they _cared_.

They came here and they protected her because they _cared_.

Santana could almost hear Brittany's voice from last year. _The kids in Glee, they steal each others' boyfriends and girlfriends, and they threaten to quit like every other week, but weird stuff like that happens in families. And family is a place where everybody loves you no matter what. And they accept you for who you are_.

"Thanks." Santana knew no other way of saying it. She just felt ridiculously attached to them all right now, and immeasurably grateful. "And thanks, Britt."

She wasn't going to forget in a hurry how it felt like salvation to see Brittany walk through that door and save her from the nightmare one more time.

"I wish I'd arrived sooner." Brittany glanced at the people huddled at the corner under the watchful eyes of Lauren and the Skanks. The Mack had finally found Quinn's phone and handed it back to its owner. "And I hope they get what they deserve."

"Well a few minutes earlier would've been nice," Santana admitted, "But the point's you're here now, isn't it?" It still hurt to talk, but she couldn't help it. She had things to say and she didn't want Brittany to beat herself up about something she couldn't have helped.

Brittany just wrapped her arms around Santana, careful to move slowly and gently. Then she looked up at the combination of Troubletones and New Directions. "You guys are really going to do the Bully Whips thing from now on, right?"

"We ain't ever letting this happen again." Puck said.

"I'm going to arrange the shifts and the patrols to make sure of that." Rachel added.

Mercedes just got off the phone and said, "Help's coming. They said that you should stay still 'till they arrive."

"Not like I'm in a hurry to go anywhere." Santana probably couldn't even walk to the doorway on her own. Not that she wanted to, though. She felt strangely content here.

Then next came something that she didn't think she was prepared for.

"Santana..."

Reflexively, Santana's muscles tensed as he approached her. As guilty as she was starting to really feel about her treatment of him before the Mash-Off, she still didn't feel comfortable around him. Brittany, too, was suddenly tense.

Though the collective actions of them all had put Santana in a sentimental, unguarded mood, she couldn't help but defensively prepare her weapons now, arrange a string of insults at the tip of her tongue, ready to fire at the first sign of an attack from him.

"Look, I…" Finn put his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "I… that time I…" He sighed. "What I did wasn't cool."

That got Santana to lower weapons and raise her eyebrows. Though raising her eyebrows unexpectedly hurt and reminded her that she had another black eye to deal with all over again.

"I shouldn't have outed you in the hallway." Finn stopped staring down at his enormous shoes and focused on her face. "I shouldn't have outed you at all and I'm sorry."

Santana realized she had her mouth agape and closed it.

She stared up at him, searching for some sign that would tell her that this was a trick to fool her into a false sense of security. But then she figured that Finn didn't have the capacity to be that conniving.

"It… Well I won't say it's fine." Would it ever be? "But I…" This was what she'd been looking for, wasn't it?

Santana had to pause to reassess the confusing emotions rushing through her. That feeling of… _warmth_ was back. And she didn't feel as hostile towards Finn anymore. He'd stepped in to protect her just like everyone else, and he'd even put in the effort of contacting Mr. Schue. Though he was still one of the many teachers Santana had little faith in, the fact that Finn bothered was worth noting.

Maybe… maybe he _did_ have it in him to change.

It was already a huge step for him to actually put his pride aside and apologize.

"I forgive you." The words tasted strange on her tongue, and it was bizarre saying it to Finn Hudson. But… it wasn't necessarily a _bad_ kind of bizarre. At least not anymore. "And Finn…" Her ribs made her wince again, but Santana kept going. "I'm sorry about the stuff I said to you."

It was Finn's turn to raise his eyebrows and widen his eyes in surprise. "I-it-wh-…" He had to pause to recompose himself. Santana's discomfort at talking about it again was balanced out by the weird sense of peace slowly starting to sink in. Finn _apologized_. Her friends were all here and _willing to stand up for her_.

The idea of it all was just so _weird_.

But soothingly so.

If her body and face didn't hurt so much, this would be a happy, picture-perfect memory.

"It's cool." His face broke out into that lopsided grin that usually made her want to punch him but instead this time made her feel a weird fondness for the familiarity of it. "Come here!" Finn spread out his arms, and that annoying grin grew wider.

Santana froze. "_No!_"

"Come on!"

"Idiot!" Quinn gave Finn's shoulder a light punch. "Didn't you just _hear_ what Mercedes said? Keep Santana still!"

"And what makes you think I'd let you touch my girlfriend?" What Brittany said caused a chorus of _ooohhh'_s from the group, followed by Sam patting Finn's shoulder.

"You're in trouble now, dude!"

Finn stumbled over his words and struggled to come up with a response. His hands played with his jacket as if it would help him out of the situation he'd gotten himself into. "I-I… I didn't mean- Brittany, look- I just… I… oh, _god_!"

Despite the soreness and difficulty, Santana managed a chuckle. "Finn, I don't want to bash your undersized brain out of your skull anymore, but I'm still not up to pressing my body against your boobs and being smothered."

"Ew." Sugar said softly.

"Yo, tell you what." Puck stepped forward, "I'll take the bullet for you, okay? But only if you guys," He let his eyes roam over everyone else, pointing at each and every one of them, " …all join in and we have some cheesy group hug moment or some shit like that."

The grave look on his face amused Santana, "Fine, fine." She gingerly stood up.

"Wait, dude!" Puck's eyes widened and he suddenly hovered around her with his hands out like he wanted to help but awkwardly didn't know how. "I thought you were just gonna sit there and hug Brittany while some of us hugged Finn's boobs for you!"

"Sure, exclude me and Britt-Britt while you guys get your sappy group hug on?" Santana waved him away, gesturing for him to go back to Finn. "Not gonna happen."

"You sure?" Brittany whispered, fussing over her, more worried than ever.

Santana legs trembled and she clung to Brittany for support, but she managed to stand upright and temporarily ignore the pain. But god, she would kill for some painkillers right now.

To ease the tension that had suddenly come over the room, Santana said, "I'm in a fucking lot of pain right now, and I'm dazed and vulnerable. I wouldn't ever say yes to this otherwise, so let's get this damn thing over with. And there's nothing better to do while we wait for old people to arrive."

"But-" Mercedes and Brittany spoke in unison.

"Let's get it done before I pass out, dammit." Santana rolled her eyes and would have threatened Mercedes if she hadn't been in a state that wasn't at all capable of fulfilling any threats.

She was feeling sappy and grateful right now and they'd better take advantage of it before this agony became unbearable and she started yelling at and insulting everyone as a coping mechanism.

A huge smile replaced the serious expression and Puck roughly grabbed Finn's shirt and pulled him close. Rachel joined in, then Kurt, Blaine, and in a matter of seconds, they were all clumped together. Her injuries temporarily forgotten, instead of feeling suffocated or claustrophobic, Santana felt very much at home. Part of something. Her Glee family.

Lips planted a kiss on her sore cheek and Santana looked to her right to see Brittany by her side, smiling brightly, blue eyes glowing. No more anger. Happier than she'd ever been in a long time.

It was like things were _finally_ going to be okay.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>There we go. It's sort of over. BUT I'm _thinking_ of writing an epilogue (which'll probably be after a timejump by the way), and if there are any questions, loose ends, clarifications, anything that you want closure on, just leave it in a review, PM me or you can ask on my tumblr, and I'll try to address that in a brief epilogue.

As for a sequel, I'm not really planning on one, but some of you have mentioned preferring this universe to the one in canon. I've been meaning to write a Faberry fic, probably in a similar style as this in that it'll follow canon events to a certain extent, but twist down its own path in its own ways. It'll probably start around the Yes/No or the Michael episode if ever. No promises since I wanna finish Cost of Survival before anything else, but if a lot of you want me to continue on with what's canon here, then I could follow this instead of the show in that sort-of sequel. But we'll see.

_(stefidelly is my personal tumblr, I wouldn't recommend following it unless you wanna be spammed like hell by brittana, faberry, avatar, Princess Merida, disney and some other random shizz. thestefidelly is my art/writing tumblr, I usually post visual art there and reblog some references, but it's less spammy and you won't have too much of a hard time looking for your ask being answered under all the junk in my personal blog. And you can always just message me here on fanfic. Whatever, I'm easy enough to talk to, I think.)_


	23. Epilogue

**Lean on Me**

* * *

><p><strong>Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings<strong>: Okay, first of all, I'd like to take a moment to apologize for some of the huge holes in the previous chapter. They're been brought to my attention, and I appreciate that, and I acknowledge that they are some pretty big goofs 0.o

But I'm kind of done with this and am not planning to go back and rewrite the chapter anymore. I will, however, learn from them and try not to make the same mistakes in the future. This is all a huge learning experience, and I'm grateful to all of you who've reviewed with critiques, praise, complaints, questions and everything in between. There's no better way of learning something than through a hands on, back-and-forth experience like this. Thanks a lot, y'all. :)

Now for this chapter. It's really just a side thing, hardly contributing anything plotwise, and just answering a few of the 'what happened after?' questions. Reading it isn't even that necessary xD It's just a bit of a for-the-heck-of-it piece with some of my headcanons for their future.

But yeah. Not much happens. Pretty much just a little oneshot that might actually be able to stand on its own.

Here we go.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p>Rubbing her temples as her groggy mind reentered the waking world, Brittany wrinkled her nose at the smell that assaulted her senses all night. Ridiculously clean in a way that felt artificial and unnatural. Nothing like the pure, real smell of healthy grass and trees at the park.<p>

It wasn't the disgusting smell of smoke and garbage, sure, but it still unnerved her with the way it just didn't feel right to have that scent hanging around.

The hospital smell.

Brittany stood up and slowly arched her back and stretched out her arms. A makeshift sleeping space in a room that wasn't hers just couldn't compare to the soft, queen-sized bed at home. Brittany liked to think that it was called that way because she and Santana were the Bicorn and Unicorn Queens that belonged on that bed together.

Still, the reason why she was here in the first place was worth every discomfort and inconvenience experienced in the past several hours.

Smiling to herself, Brittany approached Santana's bed to see that she was still sleeping. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and the faintest of smiles coaxed their way onto her lips. Brittany couldn't be sure of what Santana was dreaming of right now, but one thing was for sure.

No more nightmares.

Seeing Santana on that bed reminded Brittany of all the previous times she'd accompanied Santana in a hospital. Being places that always made her anxious and uneasy because of her father, Santana hardly ever went on her own, preferring to bring Brittany along, or some other close and trusted friend.

As her mind took her from memory to memory, Brittany observed Santana's features, taking in everything that was already memorized after so many years.

If one looked closely enough, there was a portion along Santana's left eyebrow that was a little uneven, and a touch lighter. It once came with a heavily bruised and swollen eye, and a whole lot of blood. Brittany could still remember how it made her heart crumble into little molecule-sized pieces when she first saw it.

And there was another feature, completely invisible when Santana wore make up, but relatively clear now that she wasn't. It was a faint line on her right cheek, one that had once been a huge purple mess back in the day.

Besides those little details from the awful night, there were some other features Brittany liked to look at. Like the circles under Santana's eyes that were a few shades darker, thanks to stress, and there were the lightest of lines and almost-wrinkles that told the stories of how hard she worked to climb up to where she was now.

As much as Santana complained about these details and fussed over them with make up and trips to the parlor, Brittany loved seeing them at night before bed until the morning before breakfast. She loved the stories they told, the strength they showed. They said, '_I am Santana and I'm a Survivor!_'

The door bursting open, shattered Brittany's train of thought and she turned to see a man stumbling into the room with several boxes in his arms. "The cookies! The cookies! Dammit, they're gonna fall! They're gonna fall! _THEY'RE GONNA FALL_!"

Brittany rushed forward and caught the box of pastries just before they hit the ground. "Miguel, _shut up_!" She relieved him of several more of the boxes and hissed a reprimand. "_She's still asleep!_"

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, still holding another box, one that Brittany could see contained a cake. "Sorry!" The apology was whispered now, better than the shouts he'd filled the room with just a moment ago.

Brittany rolled her eyes and checked on Santana before putting the boxes down. She'd rolled onto her other side and gone back to sleep. "You amazingly didn't wake her."

"So where's the baby?" Miguel put the cake down beside the other pastries and waited for Brittany's answer.

The baby. _Their_ baby. Brittany wasn't going to stop feeling a little thrilled every time the thought came to her. "At the nursery. They're making sure he's as perfect as ever." And of course, he _was_ perfect. Brittany was sure their child would grow up to be tall and strong and talented and successful and amazing.

"C-section, right?"

Brittany nodded, cringing a little as she recalled last night's operation. "Yeah, Santana kept insisting on a normal birth 'till the last minute when the doctor said he was too big to fit." The doctors kept congratulating them and saying their child was going to grow up to be really tall. One of them even said they had a basketball player in the making.

"Whoa, whoa. Okay, a _little_ too much detail." Miguel shook his head while waving his arms and signaling for her to stop. "I'm not crazy about thinking what my cousin looks like down there."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "You _asked_." And she was hardly giving any details at all. Sometimes Brittany forgot that Miguel was just a year younger than they were when he behaved more like he was at least ten more years behind.

Instead of responding, Miguel's face lit up and a grin that was more than a little unnerving showed itself. "Can I see the stitches?"

"_MIGUEL_!" Brittany gave his shoulder a light swat. "_No_."

"Damn, I was bragging to Anita that I'd get a good look at it before she would."

Brittany ruffled his hair, "Keep dreaming."

Miguel pushed her hand away and walked to the wall, effectively out of her reach because Brittany wasn't going to leave Santana's side anytime soon. An awkward silence followed, in which Brittany found her thoughts wandering over to the rest of Santana's family. Though her cousins Miguel and Anita lived in the same neighborhood and visited regularly, the same couldn't be said for Mr. and Mrs. Lopez. Or Alma Lopez. Or majority of Santana's family.

"Have they heard?"

Though no names were mentioned, Miguel understood and nodded his head. "Anita called them and invited them to fly over here and celebrate."

As much as Brittany despised them, and as much as Santana feared them, they were still _related_. Though she rarely talks about it, Santana would sometimes sit by herself at the porch and just zone out. And the look in her eyes was a look that showed she was entering the _what if_ world. _The what if I was still their daughter? What if they didn't see me as an abnormality that they no longer associated with?_

Brittany would rather not think of these issues, but she was here now and might as well deal with it. "Do I want to know what they said?"

Miguel shook his head and mumbled his next words, hesitant about letting them out. "They… they said the only thing they're celebrating… is your separation and… and Santana finally seeing the _light_."

"I figured as much." If they refused to visit their daughter after she'd been brutally beaten, and if they still refused to speak to her years later, then they surely wouldn't bother seeing any of their grandchildren. Frankly, Brittany wouldn't want any of their children to be anywhere near those people. They sucked the magic out of the world.

"Guess that's just how it is." Miguel shrugged again. After a pause, he said, "I still can't believe they actually got so many of us to think _she_ was the bad guy. The way they went on about it whenever someone asked, it was like Santana had a whole orgy prostitution whatever thing going on and freaked when her parents found out." He squared his shoulders and deepened his voice in an imitation of Mr. Lopez. "She disrespected her parents! She was out of control! Driven by vice and immorality! Simply beyond reason!"

"Shut up before I throw a pitcher at you."

Miguel stopped abruptly, eyes wide while Brittany looked over her shoulder to see that Santana was awake.

"How are you?" Brittany silently scolded herself for talking about this here within Santana's hearing range instead of outside the room like any sane and considerate person would have. "Should I call a nurse? Are you in pain?"

"Good morning to you too." Santana took Brittany's hand and gave it a kiss. "I'm fine." Thoroughly looking her over, Brittany could see that Santana looked dazed and tired, but otherwise relaxed. "Hi, Miguel."

"I brought cake and cookies and some other stuff. If you wanted to throw something at me, I'd suggest those instead."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Well that's a great example to set for my children. Throw food at Uncle Miguel."

Brittany laughed at the idea of babies using food as projectiles and aiming at an already splattered Miguel. Then a distraction came in the form of Brittany's phone receiving a new message.

"Is that work again?" Santana asked. "I remember last night just before we went in, they wouldn't quit bugging you 'till you had to shut the damn thing off."

It _was_ from work. "Yeah, I mean it's not like the company's gonna crumble without me." Brittany tossed her phone back into her bag and returned to her place at Santana's side. "They can't seem to get that I wanna spend time with my family for a bit."

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" Miguel said, "If they're so dependent on you, and your articles always end up being printed, it practically screams_ YOU'RE GETTING A PROMOTION SOON_."

"Or it's saying _I'M A BIGGER BABY THAN YOUR REAL BABY_."

"They have _no_ idea what a big baby is." Santana said, causing Brittany to wish she'd worded that differently. Still, Santana smiled like the whole thing amused her instead of offending her.

Another ring filled the room, this time more insistent, a call.

With a groan of frustration, Brittany walked back to her phone and was about to hang up on the caller, but stopped at the last minute. This one wasn't a call from work.

After a short moment of hesitation, Brittany answered the call and put the phone to her ear.

From the other end of the line, Quin's voice sounded stressed out, "Britt! Help! I wasn't supposed to call so you guys can have some privacy but this is an emergency!"

The way Quinn was acting was worrying Brittany, and her mind started to go through some very bad scenarios. She tried to stay calm and asked, "What's wrong?" It was just like the universe to give them a taste of something good and then shatter their happiness with heartbreaking news.

"Valerie hid my wallet!"

Brittany released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. That was it? "Anything else?" She briefly mouthed, '_Valerie hid Quinn's wallet_,' to answer the question Miguel and Santana were probably both thinking.

"My money, my license, our graduation picture, a letter from Rachel, _it's all in there_!" The lack of urgency in Brittany's voice only seemed to further agitate Quinn. "I need my damn wallet, Brittany! And Valerie just keeps running away every time I ask her where it is. I am _never_ babysitting for you two without backup _ever again_."

"Just calm down for a minute, okay?" Brittany spoke slowly, hoping to soothe Quinn. "There are two places where she likes to hide stuff. Ready?"

Quinn took a moment to calm her breathing before she replied. "Uhhuh."

"There's a loose floorboard in her room, two planks away from her bedside table. Santana's convinced that we have to nail that down soon or Val's gonna hide alchohol in there when she's a teenager."

"It's a realistic possibility!" Santana cut in.

"Another place is under Lord Shrubbington." It was a hedge Brittany regularly trimmed into the shape of a fat cat that looked exactly like a green Lord Tubbington. It was a way of keeping the memory of him around. Brittany liked to think he sometimes went down from cat heaven to lounge on top of Lord Shrubbington and watch over Brittany and Santana and mew at how far they'd come and how Santana no longer had to worry about how he'd judge them whenever he watched them get their Sweet Lady Kisses on. (He probably still liked to watch them at it in Kitty Heaven. Brittany was almost sure of that)

Either way, she hoped he finally kicked his smoking habit because the clouds didn't need all that smoke clogging everything up.

"Okay, I'll check there. Thanks!" Just before she hung up, Quinn muttered something along the lines of, "I can only imagine the trouble that's going to happen once Valerie starts training her new sidekick."

"Val pulling a prank on Q again?" Santana asked once the phone was back in the bag.

Brittany nodded, unable to keep herself from smiling. It was probably mean to think so, but Quinn's panic had been kind of amusing.

"I remember last time I was there, she put peanut butter in the gravy."

Santana frowned, "And I worked really hard on that gravy."

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and a nurse came in, greeted them good morning, and checked on Santana. "Your son is doing well, went through his examinations with impressive results." Brittany felt a rush of pride. "Would you like to see him?"

"Hell yeah!" Santana said, then added, "But can I also get something for the pain? It's starting to kick in again."

The nurse nodded before leaving the room.

"Congrats, you guys." Miguel clapped.

"I am _so_ proud of both of you." Brittany squeezed Santana's hand. It didn't matter that people like Mr. and Mrs. Lopez didn't have the sense to understand the importance of this experience and be proud of their daughter. The people who really mattered, the loyal friends, the family members who knew how to act like family members, they were here and more than willing to help.

And they were almost as proud of Santana as Brittany was.

"Thanks," Santana squeezed back. "This is what magic's like, right? Another precious unicorn to add to our herd."

"Right." Brittany bent over to kiss Santana. The woman who went through a hell of a lot to get to New York, become a lawyer, a wife, and a mother. And despite being together for so many years, she still managed to send shudders through Brittany with just a touch, and butterflies in her stomach with just several words.

The kiss was long enough that Miguel started to squirm and eventually face the corner away from them.

* * *

><p><strong>S-A.A.R.: <strong>Thanks again to all y'all who've taken the time to read this stuff :)


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